Needs
by MoonTripper
Summary: Chapter 46 is the seventh and last part of a post-first kiss episode that began with Chapter 40. In this chapter, Uhura's friend Shaniqua calls upon the East African to examine her relationship with Spock.
1. Chapter 1 I Need Him

**Author's Note: **Thanks to my friend, Acquanetta, who took quite a bit of time out of her own life to assist me with this revision.

**Series Summary:** When watching the film, I was most intrigued with the scene where Uhura confronts Spock about her assignment to the USS Farragut. As the scene is played, she is both angered and surprised by her placement. In this series, I will explore what led up to this incident with chapters involving our favorite twosome as well as Pike, Kirk, Gaila, Bones, and Sulu. Please note: The narrative will not be told in chronological order; and Uhura and Spock will not _get it on_ for quite some time. If you have the patience to stay with me, I would appreciate your comments to keep the story honest, yet, entertaining. I will attempt to post a new chapter once a week if my muse is willing.

**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, I do not own _Star Trek_. The only thing I own is my imagination.

At her work station in Mr. Spock's office, third year student Cadet Uhura could not help hearing her supervisor's voice as he spoke into his communicator at his desk. Although calm and even-tempered, his words spoke of his displeasure with the progress of one of the research projects. "Another negative trial . . . Ensign Slovich, let me remind you the experiment has surpassed its expected completion date by 33.4 days and is over budget by 49,378 credits . . . You should know I am very close to relieving you as Project Manager . . . The deciding factor will be a plan detailing the course of action needed to be taken to ensure the success of this venture. I expect it in my e-box within the next 72 hours.'

Spock closed his communicator and walked over to the office window. His behavior caught Cadet Uhura's attention. This was the day she had promised herself she would speak with him about upgrading her current position, as a Course Aide. Given the circumstance, she realized it was not the best time to bring up this issue, but she had already put off addressing it for several weeks. Luckily, she had another matter to first bring to his attention. _Perhaps, this would put him in a better frame of mind. _Uhura met him at the window with data crystal in hand. "Mr. Spock, I completed the papers you asked me to grade."

"Did you send the corrections and comments to the students?"

"As instructed, sir. I placed your electronic copies of the corrected papers in the Shared Folder for the course."

Without looking at her. "Very good. You are quite efficient with your work."

"Thank you, sir." Losing her nerve, she started back to her desk to began the next task. Hesitates. _Uhura, he actually gave you a complement. Don't back down now. _She returned to his side.

Taking notice of her return. "Cadet – do you not have your next assignment?"

"Yes, sir. I have my assignments for the entire semester, as you have provided for me."

"Then why are you not initiating the next task?"

"Permission to speak freely, sir."

"Permission granted."

"Sir, I looked forward to serving as one of assistants, because of the challenges I was sure it would bring. If one looks at the record, a number of your assistants have co-written major articles with you and presented their work at intergalactic conferences. However, after 11 weeks all I am offered is the opportunity to apply your detailed rubric and pre-written comments to student papers and record their scores. Something I am sure a trained monkey could do."

"First, Cadet Uhura, you have only functioned in this position for 10 weeks, four days, 10 hours and 17 minutes, not 11 weeks. Second, apparently, you did not read your position description carefully. You are a Course Aide, not a Research Assistant. It is the latter position which better lends itself to the scholarly activities you have cited. While your responsibilities may not appear as challenging as you may like, this type of work is necessary for courses to which I am assigned in order to provide me with the time required to oversee the scientific research division. However, if you are not satisfied with you current placement, then I will take the time to arrange another assignment for you which may better suit your aspirations."

Silence. This is not the way she had wanted the conversation to turn. She felt his dark brown eyes burrow into her. For a moment, she closed her eyes, and then opened them, again. He had not moved and the impassivity of his facial expression had the affect of slightly unnerving her.

Uhura took a breath and spoke. "Mr. Spock, I apologize. The last thing I wanted to do was to give you the impression I would desire a change in my placement. I would be less than honest if I said I was not a bit disappointed in not securing a RA position. However, as Course Aide, I feel privileged to support the department in some way." Another breath. "I just thought by now you would have confidence in my abilities and provide me with greater responsibilities."

"I have already conveyed my assessment of the proficiency of your work. Your skills have undoubtedly been allocated appropriately. I see no need for a change at this time."

There was no opposing subtext here. She could hear nothing in his tone of voice or see anything in his body posture or facial expression that offered any hope she could persuade him otherwise. She capitulated, but with an edge to the tone of her response. "Thank you for your consideration of the matter. I am looking forward to the next assignment of reading the preliminary thesis statements from the students in your ethics course. I will apply your rubric and pre-written comments, as directed."

Matching her tone, Spock sharply replied, "Then please proceed, Cadet Uhura." He then turned back to the window, body rigid and hands clasped behind his back.

She finally evoked a rise out of him, but the exchange had not been constructive. One part of her thought it best to return to her work station. However, something else spoke and advised another option.

"Sir."

Three counts. "Yes, Cadet Uhura."

"I could not help overhearing there is a significant problem with one of your projects."

"Unfortunately, the format of these offices does not allow for more privacy. I am sorry if the conversation disturbed you." Turning to her. "Now, Cadet, I believe you were to begin grading the next set of papers."

"Sir, in the past, you have spoken glowingly about Ensign Slovich and his research team. Your commendations demonstrated confidence in their approach and ability to see the project to fruition. However, a little while ago your _conversation_ displayed no indication of that former assessment. Your talk with him would hardly inspire confidence, but rather convince him that you already expect the project to fail."

"While I would not have used the word, _glowingly_, to describe my previous assessment of their work, Ensign Slovich and his team had initially shown great promise."

"Perhaps, the team just needs a little help from their friends . . . I mean, the scientific community. If there was a way . . . a forum to discuss the crux of the issue . . . it might possibly trigger the spark that may lead to a more fruitful course of action."

Silence. His head cocked to one side. Body . . . motionless. Yet, there is something going on behind those eyes, those piercing dark brown eyes. She prepared herself for one of his patented stinging retorts, but something else surprisingly was said.

"A symposium . . . the answer could be a symposium based on Ensign Slovich's research project. Cadet Uhura, in the department shared folder on your computer you will find the names and contact information of my RA's. I will give you access to their calendars, so you may set up a time for a 90 minute symposium which will be mandatory for them to attend. Once you find a suitable period, invite the faculty. I will also provide a list of other guests to be added to the invitation list who I believe may add to the value of this activity."

"I assume you will discuss this matter with Ensign Slovich and his team."

"Yes, I will speak with them tomorrow about the symposium's objective and format."

"Sir, it may be helpful if you contacted Ensign Slovich's right away to let him know of your plan. It may serve to relieve . . . I mean . . . the knowledge may prove to be productive."

"Thank you. I will consider your advice."

She smiled. "Thank you, sir." She starts toward her desk.

"Cadet Uhura, you can also include yourself on the invitation list."

Her smile broadened. "Thank you, sir."

Walking to his desk to pick up his communicator, "The conversation may be a little too advanced for your full comprehension; however, you may find it enlightening."

Stunned, then a slow burn. Sarcastically. "Mr. Spock, you are too kind. Perhaps, I could even be more helpful by accepting the responsibility of taking notes."

"Excellent suggestion. Of course, the event will be recorded, but personal notes may prove useful when summarizing the proceedings for our scientific digest."

"Do you believe it wise for such a responsibility to be assigned to someone who may not be capable of fully understanding the discussion?"

"Do not be concerned. I will review your document carefully and make any necessary revisions before publication." Speaking into his communicator. "Ensign Slovich? You will meet with me, tomorrow morning . . . No, I do not want or will accept your resignation from the project . . . I want to help you to succeed. It is illogical to believe otherwise . . . Is there something wrong with the reception at your end? . . . Yes, Ensign . . . 9:45 AM . . . Very good . . . In conference room . . ."

The correction of the ethics papers could wait. By the time she accessed the appropriate contact files, she received a message from him granting her permission to access the RA's calendars. While still talking on his communicator, Spock sent an electronic message to Uhura when he was no more than six feet away from her. Could he not just wait until he completed his call and then just turn around and speak to her? She typed and sent her response, "Thank you, Mr. Spock."

She thought, _Uhura, you've done it now. The sarcasm went right over his head or – perhaps, he was just ignoring it. Whatever the case, instead of being a step closer to earning a position as a Starfleet Officer, you're on the fast track to becoming a personal secretary._

Still, after 10 weeks, four days, 10 hours and 23 minutes – today's conversation had been the most they had ever said to each other at one time. Michelle Yu, one of Spock's previous CA's, advised her of his deliberate and imperturbable behavior. "I actually preferred it that way." She commented. "The assignments are clearly written and succinct. Just follow the instructions. I believe even a trained monkey . . ." For Michelle, the CA position had primarily been a way for her to earn some extra credits for her family of four. Her sights were set no higher than a Starfleet administrative post based on Earth.

Still, Uhura had sought out Michelle as a mentor. Despite the lip service given to equal opportunity, with few exceptions Starfleet was very much a man's world. While Michelle enjoyed playing the role of counselor to the younger cadet, Uhura soon learned her lessons only went as far as _how one can get by_. But this could not satisfy Uhura, for she wanted so much more. She would find a way to enter the men's club and surpass all expectations from her Baba, _the precious ones_, fellow cadets, faculty and, even Mr. Spock.

Using the calendar meeting maker function, Uhura found a time the RA's, Mr. Spock and the _secretary _could meet. She set the appointments in their calendars, and then created an invitation which she forwarded to faculty. Setting herself up to receive the responses, she then scheduled a suitable room. _The Charles "Trip" Tucker III Conference Room would be best. It contained the latest audio-visual equipment and could be configured according to Mr. Spock's specifications. I could ask him about the room layout, once the count was in_. The event had a 4:00 PM start time. Snacks would serve to raise their energy level at that time of day. She would need to ask Mr. Spock about a budget. If she were to play this role, _I going to be best damn secretary I could be. He is going to take note of me. I need him to get what I want._

**Author's Note:** Your reviews are always welcome.


	2. Chapter 2 Awakenings

**Author's Note: **Thanks to my friend, Acquanetta, who took quite a bit of time out of her own life to assist me with this revision.

Upon the receipt of the external guest list, Uhura merged the contact list with the symposium invitation and clicked the "send" button. She absentmindedly wound several of her braids around two of her fingers as she checked her inbox to make sure none of the invitations had bounced back. Although in close spatial proximity to Mr. Spock, she chose to electronically send word of her completion of that task. He quickly responded without taking the time to turn back around to look at her, "Thank you, Cadet Uhura."

_Uhura completes an assignment and he just hits – command/shift/U – for his "Thank you, Cadet Uhura" message . . . No . . . no . . . that method required too many key strokes. The shortcut was probably just command u_._ He's probably turned his attention to something else, now, and not even giving her more than a moment's thought. He probably did not even notice she was wearing a new fragrance, today . . . lilac. _

Uhura spent 15-20 hours a week working close to Mr. Spock's desk, but he appeared unaffected to any changes in her mood, hair, makeup, uniform - while of course mindful of keeping any changes within regulations. This was not true of her Orion roommate, Gaila. _Unfortunately, Gaila notices everything._ Earlier that morning . . .

Uhura sat in front of her computer translating Betazoidian into Standard Federation. After each answer, she received the "cheerful response" – "Thank you, Cadet Uhura."

Calling from the bathroom, Gaila asks her, "Uhura . . . .are you going to meet us tonight at the New Cairo Station?" No response. "Uhura . . . Uhura!"

Between her language responses, "Shhhhhh – I only have two more to go!"

Gaila pokes her head out, "What?" Seeing her roommate engaged in one of her favorite pastimes, Gaila shook her head disapprovingly. _Can't she ever get enough? She r_eturned to her morning grooming routine until, at last, she heard the usual commendation, "Excellent, Cadet Uhura. You have successfully identified100 out of 100 Betazoidian phrases. Do you wish to continue to the next lesson?"

Coming out of the bathroom with brush in hand, Gaila mimics Uhura voice. "No computer. Note stopping point and end program."

Warning. "Gaila . . ."

Still imitating Uhura's voice, "I know you _hate it _when the Orion's show off their superior talent with the_ tongue_ . . . But please don't hate us. We were born gifted."

Uhura laughs. It was difficult for her to be upset with her friend. "All right . . . all right. Save that display for your next male conquest." Picking up her PADD and earpiece, "Now, what were you trying to ask me? I've got to get going to my phonology class in the next ten minutes."

Back to her own voice. "Phonology? Then why were you studying Betazoidian?"

"Just for the fun of it." Gaila rolls her eyes. Uhura places her hands on her hips and retorts, "Wait a minute my Orion, sister. You may be able to imitate my voice, but under no circumstance can you usurp the _sacred rolling of the eyes_ - which is only authorized to be performed by _Terran sisters of color_."

Laughing. "You once told me I was an honorary Terran sister of color."

"Oh no, I would have never said that. There are some gifts we have to keep to ourselves."

Together. "Vive la différence!"

After their laughter has subsided. "Now if you have time to study subjects for which you are not even being graded . . ."

"I'm grading myself."

"It's meaningless!"

"It means something to . . ."

"As I was saying . . . if you have time for something that has absolutely no consequence to your graduation from the Academy, then I know you have time to meet us, tonight."

"Who are _us_?"

"Wilson, Mfume, Costello, Stiles, McCoy, and Kirk."

"Gaila, why don't _us_ ever include any women?"

"You and I are part of _us._"

"And, another thing, I told you that Wilson and Stiles don't get along with Kirk. They were involved in that fight in Iowa and the grudge still remains, at least, on the part of Wilson and Stiles. So, find a way to disinvite those two and replace them with representatives of the female persuasion."

"If that will make it more likely you will actually show up, tonight."

"It depends on the place."

"The New Cairo."

"The New Cairo?! There is nothing about that place that gives me even the slightest reminder of my homeland. The owners think they can install a few ceiling fans, cover tables and chairs with a plastic leopard print, and feature – as a specialty of the house – a cocktail that did not even have its origin in that part of Africa."

"The Sundowner cocktails are what make the place worthwhile."

"OK – then if a South African drink is the draw, they should name that bar the _New Johannesburg _or something_. _ However, even with a change of name it would remain an insult to my homeland."

"Uhura – you are always so sensitive."

"When it comes to my heritage, this is so."

"Then, we'll go to the . . . Journey's End. You know how much you love their spinach, feta cheese and bacon pizza on thin crust."

Uhura felt her mouth water. "Sans tomato sauce."

"Now you have no excuse not to come. 8 o'clock."

"All right, I'll be there . . . now I better get out of here." She picks up her shoulder bag, placing her PADD inside. Then, remembering the cool San Francisco evenings, she goes to the closet for her jacket.

While brushing her hair, Gaila adds coyly, "Uhura . . . don't forget to put the bottle in your purse."

"Bottle? I'm getting my jacket for tonight. What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the lilac fragrance."

Caught and a little embarrassed. "Oh."

"Go get it and put it in your purse so you can freshen up, before you go out, tonight." Uhura retrieves it. Gaila smiles, "I'm glad you're getting interested in men, again. I was about to take away your Woman's ID card, if I did not see a change in behavior."

Trying to play it off. "Oh, no, Gaila, you have it wrong. I just feel like wearing it. _Just for the fun of it_."

Gaila rolled her eyes.

At her workstation in Spock's office, Uhura completed the spreadsheet she would use to record the RSVP's for the symposium. She then saved the document to the shared folder. She began to close the external guest list file, but instead made a copy of it to a disk she would place in her shoulder bag. _I'll prepare for the symposium as if it were a final exam. I'll research the guests and their work to better engage them in discussion._

Uhura had done all she could regarding the symposium, so maybe now she could start correcting the ethics papers from Spock's course. But then . . . her PADD signaled her. It was Gaila letting her know she was over 45 minutes in meeting them at the Journey's End. Her message read, "I know you're still in _jail_. You tell him he's got to let you go or we're coming to break you free of your bondage!" Uhura wrote back, "Stay where you are. Order a glass of Chablis. On my way."

While opening her shoulder bag to place her PADD inside it, she sees her fragrance bottle. She put took the time to place a drop behind each of her ears. She then turned her body discretely away from Spock (_Right _. . . _as if __**he **__was going to notice). _As unobtrusively as possible she opened the three top buttons of her uniform to place a drop at the top of her cleavage. Uhura had read in one of her xenology e-books that Vulcans enjoyed the smell of lilacs even though the plant species is not native to their planet. She realized that "fact" was probably in error just like so much of the so-called knowledge of this secretive alien race. However, Uhura had convinced herself that she had spent most of the day last Saturday finding the _right_ perfume, because she thought the scent would make the office a bit less sterile if _he_ could be a bit more pleasant. This proved not to be a factor in her earlier discussion with him about obtaining more challenges in her work. Perhaps, that was asking too much of the Vulcan. After rebuttoning her uniform, she decided to place two more drops on her wrists.

_But if no one else but Gaila took notice of her fragrance at the Journey's End, she was going to die! _She put on her jacket and began to close it. While doing so, she noticed Mr. Spock did not seem aware of her presence. In his _own world_, he answered mail, read and made comments on project progress reports, and revised notes for next day lectures. Uhura's hours that day were only to be from noon to five, but it was now 8:55 PM. She had not eaten dinner and did not remember having more than an energy bar for lunch. She realized she could not entirely blame him, since she was a willing participant in this madness. If it had not been for Gaila, she would probably still be working - near him, but not _close_ to him – until the late hours of the night.

Mr. Spock appeared so engrossed in his work, Uhura decided she would just walk out without disturbing him. Shutting down her computer, she slung her bag over her shoulder and started out the office when she heard his voice.

"Cadet Uhura, have you completed your tasks for this evening?"

Turning to him. "Yes, sir."

"I am pleased I have been able to accommodate your work by keeping company with you this evening."

Disbelieving his statement. "Excuse me . . . sir?!"

"I believe the appropriate response would be – _Thank you, Mr. Spock_." Flabbergasted, she could not move or speak. Shutting down his computer. "You are welcome, Cadet Uhura." Picking up his jacket and putting it on. "Since you insisted on staying well beyond your usual time of departure, conditions are now unsuitable for you to return to your housing unit alone. Therefore, I will volunteer to take you there."

Uhura tried to control her anger, but there remains a definite edge to her voice. "Mr. Spock, remaining here admittedly _well beyond my usual time of departure _may have given the false appearance I have no other life beyond this workstation. However, tonight I do have a social engagement to meet with friends of mine in the city."

A raised eyebrow, but otherwise no change in facial expression. "Will this social engagement involve the consumption any intoxicating substances?'

"Sir, I am 24 years old and unless the legal drinking age has been changed without my knowledge, I believe I have the right to choose whether or not to partake in an alcohol beverage." _What is this?! He's treating me like a child!_

"Cadet Uhura, would you not agree that even one alcoholic drink impairs a human's ability to function at the optimum level?"

"Yes, sir, that is a known fact. However, I plan only to have one drink." _Why am even talking to him about this? It's none of his business!_

"Even assuming you have the fortitude to remain resolute with your intention, you will probably feel pressured to remain with your friends in a social capacity until the early hours of the morning when they have reached their desired level of inebriation. The effects of the alcoholic beverage and the lack of sleep will most likely prove to lessen your performance level in the morning."

"Sir, with all due respect, as long as I do nothing to disgrace the Academy, how I conduct my private life should be of no concern of yours. If you'll excuse me . . ." She began to walk out the door.

"I thought you might enjoy the challenge of leading the discussion in tomorrow's graduate seminar on ethics." The words stopped her in her tracks. She turned back to him to hear more. "The topic deals with the subject of privacy in communications. I have read the paper you published on the subject under Dr. Kim, so I am confident you are well qualified to moderate such a conversation among my students. Are you interested?"

Uhura had never before heard about Spock allowing a Course Aide to play such a role in one of his courses. Smiling. "Yes, of course. I would like to take advantage of this opportunity."

"The seminar begins at 8 AM. I took the liberty of checking your schedule and you have no conflicts at that time. I also sent a list of questions to your inbox which you can use to get the discussion started. I am sure you would like to have a chance to return to your housing unit to review those queries and then obtain sufficient rest in order to be ready for the session."

Uhura then remembered why she was angry with her supervisor. _What a manipulator!_ But, she could not back out of it now, not after her earlier plea for more challenging responsibilities. All she could manage to say was, "Thank you, Mr. Spock."

"Probably, before we leave . . . you'll want to contact your friends to let them know of your change of plans about meeting them at the Journey's End."

_Not a detail slips past him, does it. _She removed her PADD from her bag and then typed, _Sorry. I am not going to be able to make it tonight, after all. Explain later." _She hit the send button and placed the device back in her bag.

As they left the office and began their walk to her dormitory, she heard him ask, "Is that not an Academy-issued PADD?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then I must remind you that personal messages are not appropriate on these units. Please refrain from such violations in the future."

Uhura rolled her eyes.

Neither said another word as they took only 15 minutes to make the usual 20 minute trek across campus. Although nearly a head taller, he needed to take full strides to keep up with her hurried pace. And the cold . . . not the temperature, but Uhura's temperament toward him was absolutely frigid. When they arrived at the front door of the dormitory, she quickly removed her key card and swiped it to gain entrance. In a strained voice she told him, "Thank you, Mr. Spock, for accompanying me to my _housing unit_. Good-night." She took hold of the door handle and began to open it, when . . .

"Cadet Uhura?"

Three beats. Releasing the door, she reluctantly turned back to him. "Yes, sir." _Why don't you just let me go?!_

"I am aware you did not have the chance to partake in any sustenance this evening and I am quite sure the dormitory cafeteria is probably closed. If you would inform me of your preference, I will procure your order for you at one of the local diners near the campus."

_So now he's trying to be considerate. I'm not about to give him the satisfaction. _"That will not be necessary, Mr. Spock. I had such a huge breakfast, it has stayed with me all day. In fact, I could probably go for another three or four days without eating another bite." Suddenly, a loud growl from her stomach betrayed her words and evoked a raised eyebrow from Spock.

"Apparently, there is a differing opinion."

Embarrassed, but _on principle_ she would not change her mind now. She would, at least, control _this_ situation. "Anything else, sir."

"You may continue to wear it."

"Wear what, sir?"

"That fragrance. Lilac, isn't it?

Two beats. Almost inaudible. "Yes, sir."

"It mixes well with your normal body odor."

Suddenly inarticulate, "I . . . not everyday . . . I mean, you would not want me to . . . I . .maybe sometimes . . . Thank you, Mr. Spock." _Great, _she thought, _I'm a communications officer who could not put together a coherent sentence. _

"The seminar meets in Room 2445 in the Archer Building. I'll meet you there at 7:45 AM."

"Yes, sir."

It took her several tries of pulling the door handle to realize her key card access had timed out. Feeling stupid, she could not even look back at him as she swiped the card, again. Yet, she could feel him watch her until she gained entry and the door securely shut behind her.

_What was that?_ Once in her room, she turned on her computer and then went to the refrigerator. Unfortunately, Gaila had finally fulfilled her promise to clean out the refrigerator. _He did notice._ She replayed the words over in her mind:

"You may continue to wear it."

"Wear what, sir?"

"That fragrance. Lilac, isn't it?

"Yes, sir."

"It mixes well with your normal body odor."

She laughed. _It mixes well with your normal body odor. Mr. Spock certainly has a way with words. _Her stomach growled, again. Touching her stomach. _All right, settle down. Only eight more hours until the cafeteria opens for . . . _The door chime sounded. _Had Gaila forgotten her keycard, again? _ She opened the door and found a rumpled and inebriated James T. Kirk at the door holding a pizza box. "Thought you would be needing this." She grabbed the pizza and his arm and pulled him into the room.

Kirk, the "bad boy of the Academy" was often a pain in the butt, but there were other moments when you just did not know how you could do without him.

"How did you get in the building?"

Slightly slurring his words. "Tell you and find my 24-hour access closed to me . . . That's not happening. And, is that any way to talk to a man bearing what you're craving for?"

Uhura quickly cleared a spot on the desk and opened the box. "Spinach, feta cheese and bacon on thin crust . . . And you remembered to hold the tomato sauce. Kirk, I owe you." Picking up a piece, she happily shoved it in her mouth. "Mmmmmmmmm . . . The Journey's End has the best pizza."

"Wait, there's more." He pulls out two bottles of beer.

"You can't take bottled beer out of a bar like it's a convenience store."

"What are you going to do . . . call the police . . . Miss Righteous U – hur – a?" When he started to sway, she first grabbed the bottles, and then pushed a chair under him just as he began to fall. "Thank you." She opened one of the bottles and took a drink. Then, she placed the other in the refrigerator. "Hey, what are you doing? One for me and one for you."

Eating another piece of pizza. "You're drunk."

"Anymore news I can't use."

"Please don't tell me you drove over here."

"Tried to . . . but strange, no one would lend me their vehicle."

"How many cadets do you know with access to their own private vehicle? Zero. And drinking and driving . . . I don't even want to joke about it. James, you should know better."

"Call me Kirk or Jim, but please do not call me James. Only my mother calls me that . . . Leering. "And you, _sweet lady,_ look nothing like my mother."

As though she heard it all before. "Sweet talker." Takes another bite of pizza. "So, how did you get here? Inflate your ego and float to my dormitory?"

"That retort was truly weak. You're disappointing me, Uhura. You need to live up to my fantasy of beauty and brains in one nice _tight_ package. "

"Well we can't all have an IQ of 162."

"162 on a bad day!"

"Only if the IQ test is including one's propensity for being a _wise ass_."

"I love it when you _talk dirty_ like that."

"Bones played chauffer tonight, didn't he? His latest has a great ride."

"The mystery is solved."

"Actually the real mystery to me is how the two of you became such good friends, unless Bones has a penchant for helping the severely socially repressed."

"That's my girl! Hit me, again. I'm almost there . . . "

"I'm going to kick you out of here if you don't behave. You're getting ready to cross that line –"

"All right . . . all right. Now, you really are reminding me of my mother. So, what happened to you tonight? An exam in phonetics? A paper in morphology? Or, you just wanted a chance to practice your sociolinguistics?"

"I get to moderate a graduate seminar, tomorrow." Almost feeling full, she can now feel generous. "Would you like some of this?"

"Real nutrients might interfere with my buzz. You just knock yourself out." She picks up another piece. "So, you get to play teacher."

"Oh, no. Don't even try to pull me off of my cloud. Save your rain for someone who actually cares about your opinion. Where's my roommate?"

"Somewhere between pissed off and unbridled fury."

"I'm putting up with a lot of abuse, tonight, for a taste pizza and a bottle of beer. If I was not so hungry . . . "Do you know where I can find her?"

"When Gaila got the message you had stood the gang up, _once again_, she was so distraught that she had to find solace in the arms of Cadet Fill-in-the-Blank."

"She always worries me."

"After two and a half years, you would think by now you would have gotten use to it. Those Orion women can take care of themselves. With their sexual pheromones, it is really the men who have to be wary." Two beats. "Hey, I'm starting to speak coherently now. I think I need another beer to take care of that problem." He tried to stand up, but she pushed him back down, again.

"Listen, you. I eventually need for you to get out of here, preferably before the sun comes up and without anyone seeing you. Nothing more to drink for you, tonight." Looking about. "Napkins . . . where are the napkins?"

"Was I supposed to bring everything? Just what was _your _contribution to the party?"

"Who ever heard of bringing pizza without napkins?"

"Use your towels."

"We each only have one clean set left and I would rather save it for my shower."

"What about your bed sheets?"

Disregarding his comment. "There's usually some napkins left in the commons area when people eat there. I'll be right back." She placed the part of her palm that was still clean on the touch plate to open the door. Turning back to him, she warned, "And you better not touch that other beer."

At his apartment, Spock heated leftovers from a pot of Ulan soup he had cooked yesterday. A savory potage, it was usually even better the next day after it was cooked. However, tonight he had only tasted a few spoonfuls, when he seemed to lose his appetite. His mind wandered back to Cadet Uhura, who said she was not hungry, but whose own body betrayed her contention._ Why would she not accept his offer to acquire food for her?_

Still, he could still recall _pleasure_ . . . yes, it was _pleasure _that he had experienced as the lilac scent filled his nostrils and seemed to strangely affect other parts of his body. He wanted to hear her voice, again, that night. He needed to hear her voice, again. He quickly convinced himself_ he_ did not have a compulsion to contact her. Instead, he would contact _her_ to make sure she had all she needed for tomorrow morning's seminar. From all his years working under Captain Pike's command, he had learned a certain level of comfort was an important ingredient for Terrans to perform at their optimum in noncombatant situations. His call to her would have that effect, so this action would, indeed, be of service to her.

After Uhura left, Kirk got up and stumbled over to the few remaining pieces of pizza. He crammed one piece in his mouth, and then another. _That's a damn good pie._ He reached for the last piece when he heard a signal coming from Uhura's communicator lying on the desk _Maybe it's Gaila. Uhura would want you to answer it._ He quickly licked his fingers and picked up the device."Hello."

Two beats. Spock checked his communicator display, but it indicated he had called Uhura's communicator. _Why did he hear a male's voice? _"Is this Cadet Uhura's housing unit?"

"Housing unit?" _Why was this guy talking like this?_

"Please confirm whether this is Cadet Uhura's housing unit."

Suddenly feeling protective. "Who is this? . . . Some kind of damn survey or something, because if it is, she's not interested."

Spock's tolerance for this man was quickly growing thin. The man was clearly under the influence us some type of intoxicating substance and Spock now grew concerned for her safety. "Why are you in possession of Cadet Uhura's communicator? I request you transfer the unit to her, immediately."

"Look, Jack . . . Saheed . . . P'lon . . . or, whatever the f--- your name is . . . " Spock reached for his jacket ready to make his way back to her dormitory, when he heard another voice. Uhura's voice.

"Who are you talking to?! . . . "

"I don't know . . . someone who is trying to sell you something or some other kind of shit . . . talking stilted Standard Federation . . . " Imitating, "Is this Cadet Uhura's housing unit?"

Her heart sank. Two breaths. "Communicator." She held out her hand.

"Make me."

"_Now_, mister!" Kirk does as she commanded. As though speaking to a dog, "Sit! . . . I said, sit!" His knees buckled and he fell down on her bed.

Trying to withhold a scream, Uhura rushed in the bathroom and closed the door. Three breaths. As calm as she could be, she tried to keep her voice low so not to be overheard by Kirk. "Mr. Spock?"

"Cadet Uhura, do you require my assistance?"

"No, sir. Everything is . . . fine."

"Who was that man?"

"A friend, sir."

"A _friend_. He appeared to be rather impetuous."

She wanted to cry. "I cannot disagree, sir."

"What is he doing in your room at this time of night?"

"Sir?"

"When I left you, I presumed you would spend your time preparing for tomorrow's seminar."

"That was the plan, but he showed up unexpectedly with food. I was so hungry, I was grateful he came."

"I offered to provide dinner for you, but you refused. Your actions were illogical."

Silence.

Then, Spock had to ask, "Just how long do you believe you will be entertaining that _child_, tonight?" He knew he had stepped over the line with his question, but it was of no concern to him at this moment. Jealousy had taken hold of him, yet, he refused to acknowledge this strange emotion.

Sharply. "He is not a child, sir. You will not speak of him in such terms."

"He should not be there with you."

_What did she hear in his voice? . . . A tenseness . . . she could not quite identify it. _"Sir, I doubt if my friend is really in any condition to leave, right now."

"I am able to come and assist your friend to his habitat." It was not appropriate, but under the stress of the situation she found herself laughing softly. _Kirk was right. Mr. Spock's speech could, at times, be somewhat stilted. And, Uhura had to admit she found herself speaking the same way when she was around him. _"Did I say something to amuse you, Cadet?" For Spock, her laughter was not one of derision, but served to relieve some of the stress that had permeated their exchange.

"Sir, I meant no disrespect . . . I'm just tired. However, please don't worry about my friend. In a while, he'll be able to leave here under his own power. And the seminar, I'll be adequately prepared. I really am quite excited about the opportunity."

"I am . . . pleased." The warm, rich sounds of her voice was what pleased him. This is what he needed.

But, then she asked him, "Sir, why did you call?"

At first, he was without words. He could not say what he did not fully understand.

"Sir . . . the reason for your call?"

His answer even surprised him. "I believe . . . I forgot to tell you . . . _Good night."_

If asked, Uhura could not describe the _feeling _that suddenly came over her. _This feeling_. . . warm . . . pulsating . . . so delicious . . _this feeling . . . _spread through her body. For a moment, she could not speak for she wanted to savor and explore it_._

Spock waited what seemed to be a lifetime for her to respond. He held his breath. He felt exposed . . . naked . . . _Why did she not . . . please say . . . something._

Then, Uhura spoke. "Say it, again, sir. I would like to hear you say it, again."

Without hesitation. "_Good night."_

Uhura closed her eyes and let the words echo in her mind. She drew an arm around her body as though trying somehow to keep _this__ feeling_ within her.

This time there was no anxiety in waiting to hear her voice, again. He knew _his words . . . those simple words_ _had touched her_. And, _this thought . . . _the thought of _him . . . touching her with those words . . . filled him with desire. _

"_Good night, Mr. Spock." _ Transmission ended.

Spock put away the Ulan soup. It was common knowledge among Vulcans that this soup was best on the second day after it was cooked. He sat at his computer and read a technical journal for several hours, and then readied himself for bed. With his quarters sufficiently warm, he required no covers that night. On his back, he quieted himself until he could only hear the sound of her laughter. _Yes _. . . it gave him such . . . _what was the word . . ._ _comfort. Yes, comfort. _Relaxed. So relaxed . . . until the question invaded his mind . . . _Was he still with her? _Sleep would not come easy for him, tonight.

Uhura took an extra blanket from the closet and gently covered Kirk. Smiling. He actually looked like a child lying there. Tousled hair . . . lips slightly parted . . . the regular rhythms of his breath well suited for one who often times seemed not to have a care in the world. _He was cute for a white boy._ His boyish good looks slightly marred as the result of never being able to back down from a fight. She remembered Mr. Spock's words . . . _No, it was not so much the words, it was the way he said _. . ._Good night._ She laughed softly. Bending down she whispered in Kirk's ear, "God is. Did you hear me, James? God is!" She kissed his cheek and touched his hair. His body reacted to her touch and he mumbled something under his breath. She knew not what he said.

Uhura stayed up until she had written new, but fitting questions for the seminar. With James in the room, flannel pajamas were an easy choice for her attire that night. She changed in the bathroom and completed her nightly routine. She picked up her PADD and earphones and then climbed in her roommate's bed knowing Gaila would probably not return until close to daybreak. _Let's see . . . where did I leave off with my Betazoidian lessons? _Just as she was to begin her tutorial, a detail of her day suddenly came to light. _ How did he know I was to meet my friends at the Journey's End?_ _I never identified it. Had he been monitoring her PADD transmissions? Oh, that Vulcan!!! _Sleep would not come easy for her this evening.

**Author's Note: **Later, I will return to this story, which marks the beginning of their recognition of their mutual attraction for each other. However, like most relationships, our twosome will encounter more problems and misunderstandings before realizing their love for each other.

The next chapters will explore their lives and relationships prior to this point. Yes, you will also eventually find out why Kirk and Uhura enjoy a close, but complicated liaison.

Your comments or suggestions are strongly encouraged and highly appreciated. I'll post the next chapter within seven days.


	3. Chapter 3 Disclosures

**Author's Note:** Thanks to my friend, Acquanetta, who took quite a bit of time out of her own life to assist me with this revision.

Here's the next chapter which deals primarily with Kirk's feelings toward Uhura and Spock's friendship with Pike.

3:50 AM. Spock awoke at this time, as usual. However, yesterday's events, thoughts of Uhura, and the visitor in her room resulted in a less than restful night. After taking care of his bodily needs, he donned his robe believing his meditative ritual would adequately refresh him for that day. Aftewards, the results of this practice had the desired effects on his body, but his mind . . . his mind was filled with her. And, he wondered, was she thinking of him, too?

4:37 AM. Jim Kirk awakened in Uhura's bed a bit hung over. He looked toward the window. _Good . . . it's still dark._ External security lighting seeped into the room under the blinds. His eyes adjusted to the dim illumination allowing him to see Uhura asleep with headphones on, in the next bed. He watched as her lips moved as though still involved with her lesson. He could have just lain there . . . watching her, but Kirk knew he must leave soon while his exit would go unnoticed. As he sat up and pulled the coverlet from over him, Kirk noticed he was no longer wearing his cadet jacket or shoes. He found his footwear neatly placed next to the bed.

After slipping on his shoes, he walked into the bathroom and turned on the light above the medicine cabinet. Over the shower stall he found his jacket hanging, now noticeably cleaner and less wrinkled than when he came to her room last night.A white piece of linen paper protruded from the end of the sleeve. _One of Uhura's personal notes. _Her writing practice considered unusual, since very few people took the time to put pen to paper in these modern times. The note read, "_Thanks for the pizza and saving my life, once again. Uhura." _ Kirk knew her act of kindness spared him from the possibility of, yet, another write-up which he could hardly afford to take.

Now in his jacket, Kirk returned to Uhura's bedside. Gently, he removed her headphones and set them on the nightstand. Kirk then bent down and tenderly kissed her cheek. She stirred slightly, but did not awaken. _You know if she was conscious, she'd slap your face._ He smiled. Suddenly, he did not feel hung over. In fact, he felt invigorated. Touching her . . . touched his very soul. Touching her . . . comforted him. He needed her.

Kirk moved to exit the room. Just as he reached for the touch plate, the door opened with Gaila on the other side. As she started to exclaim, Kirk placed his hand over her mouth and pulled Gaila down the dormitory hallway into a nearby closet. He removed his hand and spoke in low tones. "It's not what you think."

Catching her breath. "Kirk, you scared me! I didn't expect anyone coming out of the room at this hour."

"Look, Gaila, nothing went on in there."

"Do you really think you need to tell me that? Even if I walked in and saw Uhura and you . . . in the bed . . . naked . . . . lying on top of each other . . . I'd first think _I _was the one hallucinating. You know Uhura has an arcane belief that you should only have sex with someone you love. And, she certainly isn't in love with you."

Gaila's words cut into him. However, he masks his true feelings and, somehow, manages a wisp of smile. "Right. We're just friends."

"Gotta get some sleep," she said while stifling a massive yawn. "Got an exam, today, in Murphy's class." Gaila leaves him.

_Just friends._

5:00 AM. Spock changed into a red academy sweatshirt and black jogging pants. He left his apartment and began his morning run across the quad. He soon found his rhythm taking long strides through the cool air. As his path took him by the women's dormitory, his eyes widened as Spock saw what appeared to be a male figure leaving the building. _Was that the man who spent the night in Cadet Uhura's room?_ _Did he touch her? Did she touch him?_ . . . _No . . . No . . . I will not surrender myself to such thoughts._

As he passed by family housing, Captain Christopher Pike joined in on Spock's run as he had done most every Friday morning. This became an appreciated tradition for them since they finished their last tour of duty and returned to the Academy as faculty. Spock slowed his pace when the Captain joined him, but he did not mind. He always looked forward to the time they spent together. With Pike teaching military history and tactical operations courses, during the week they rarely saw each other as Spock taught in the physical sciences and philosophy departments.

6:03 AM. Spock and Pike were already engaged in conversation at their table in a diner a few blocks from campus. They did not have to bother to order, because their Friday morning diet never changed. Served by Myra - the diner's sole waitress - Pike's meal consisted of two hardboiled eggs, wheat toast, sausage and black coffee; while Spock had tofu and peanuts on a bed of rice noodles (yes, for breakfast) and a cup of tea.

"See this?" Pike held up a data crystal. "This is the result of me making an off-handed remark to Jack that I had no idea what type of music kids were listening to. So, my 12 year old son thinks he is doing me a favor by downloading over 100 songs and then taking the time toadd his own commentary to each selection."

Spock dryly added, "Assuming five minutes as the average duration of each song with commentary, the data crystal holds, at least, 500 minutes or 8.33 hours of musical entertainment. How fortunate you are."

Spock and sarcasm? Pike became use to the Vulcan's wit while serving together for two 5-year tours of duty. To Pike, Spock had the best sense of humor of anyone he knew. "Fortunate? I can't even get through the first couple of songs."

"Perhaps, you are too sophisticated to fully appreciate that type of music."

"Is that another way of saying I'm too old?"

"I believe that is the cue for the check." Pike laughed as Spock signaled to Myra. "Captain, within the next 48 hours, I am sure you will find the wherewithal to listen to each minute of the recording. Then, over the weeks to come, you will spend many more hours discussing each selection with him." Spock knew Pike better than any other officer, yet, the Vulcan could not bring himself to call him by first name out of the deep respect he felt for the Captain. Although Spock had never told him so, he considered Pike as his only true Terran friend.

Pike smiled. "Thank you, Spock."

"Why do I deserve any note of gratitude?"

"You find ways to remind me of the kind of father that I am. Not such a great husband though. If that were true, I would still be married."

"Studies have shown the divorce rate for Starfleet officers to be nearly 63% higher than that of the general population due to the stress of such long periods of separation. You should not blame yourself for the dissolution of your marriage."

"You mean I shouldn't blame myself for being like any other man."

"Captain, I assure you that you are not like any other man." Spock said it in such a matter of fact manner that it caught Pike off-guard. He wanted to reach over and touch his arm in appreciation of his support. However, knowing the gesture might embarrass his Vulcan friend, he chose not to respond.

"It's my understanding that Kobayashi Industries are involved in a starship design which imagines a day when officers may bring their families on deep space tours. The ship functions as one unit, but can separate before engaging in combat to allow non-military personnel to move to safety."

"I am well aware of this project conceived and headed by its chief engineer, Nozomi Ito. The concept can only be characterized as science fiction."

"Yesterday's science fiction becomes today's scientific reality."

"I concede such works have inspired a number of Terran scientists, but the Vulcan process follows a much more reasoned approach to scientific discovery."

"Call it what you want, but I believe every discovery . . . every invention began with a vision of what could be . . . what should be." Making a toast with his coffee cup, "So, to those spinners of dreams, yet unrealized I say . . . dream on." Pike downs the rest of his beverage to complete his homage. This action brought to mind why Spock so enjoyed Pike's company. The Captain challenged him to expand his way of thinking and – dare he admit - his humanity as few Terrans had done so in the past.

Pike, his mother – Amanda Grayson, and former lover Leila Kalomi each affected his life's journey in ways he continued to discover every day. And Cadet Uhura _. . . What could be? . . . What should be?_ Although enrolled in the postgraduate program, she was still a student and subordinate. The cultivation of an other than professional relationship would be inappropriate and highly illogical when faced with the probability of such an affair lasting any appreciable period of time. His ill-fated relationship with Kalomi certainly proved that. And yet, Spock could no longer deny his need for Uhura. _I want her to need me, too_. Under the circumstances, Spock could only _dream_.

The men paid the bill and began their brisk walk back to campus. They now turn their conversation to academic matters. They discussed the likely release of several more second year cadets added to a list of those failing to have _the right stuff_ to become Starfleet officers. Pike then lamented the possible retirement of an esteemed faculty member. This evoked Spock's observation, "There is no word for retirement in the Vulcan language. Therefore, I never understood this Terran tradition."

As they drew near family housing, Pike's personal communicator signaled for his attention. Looking at the screen, "Hey, Jack . . . are you ready for school?"

"Can't find my shoes," Pike's son replied sleepily.

"All right, I'll help you look for them in a moment. I just want to have a few more words with Mr. Spock."

His loud yawn almost made his greeting undecipherable. "Good . . .MOOOOOOR . . NIIIIIING meeee . ….ster . . .Spock."

"Good morning, Jack. You have demonstrated excellent lung capacity."

He laughed tiredly, but sounded very much like his father. "You're playing with me, aren't you, Mr. Spock?"

Pike intervened. "Jack, start looking for your shoes or you'll be late for school." He closed his communicator. "Spock, one more thing. I just wanted to tell you how pleased I am you're bringing back the symposium series. Remember, the academy ran such a program when you were a cadet, but then Admiral McDaniels became so paranoid about the possible appropriation of intellectual property that he disbanded the series. Yet, I distinctly recall several major breakthroughs in our research as a result of such discourse."

"I concur with your recollection. Nevertheless, I must disclose the idea to initiate this new symposium series was sparked by my Course Assistant."

"Cadet Uhura? Actually, I'm not surprised. Last semester, I told you she had great potential as one of your Research Assistants in the area of intergalactic communications. Frankly, at the time, I did not quite understand why you appointed her to the less challenging CA position. However, word is the students greatly appreciate the thoughtful and detailed feedback she provides on their work. And, if she has inspired you to reinstate the symposium series, you should be congratulated for your personnel management skills." Pike's communicator drew his attention, once more. "Jack, did you find your shoes?"

"I found one of them."

"Try searching in that black hole under your bed. I'm on my way." As he starts to jog toward his home Pike turned back to say, "See you next week."

7:07 AM. Spock began his jog toward his apartment to shower and prepare for the day. He was looking forward to seeing his CA in the facilitator's role for his ethics seminar this morning. He was looking forward to seeing _her_. Although the Captain, indeed, is his friend – Spock was not ready to admit to Pike or even himself the real reason he had not appointed Uhura as one of the Research Assistants. At the postgraduate level, a Research Assistant functioned more like a Project Manager who worked with a team of student specialists. After identifying the methodology and devising a work plan, the Vulcan had far less personal contact with the RA. Communication primarily came through weekly progress reports sent to Spock for his exacting review.

In contrast, the Course Assistant had a work station in close proximity his own. As a result, Cadet Uhura was in _his_ presence 15-20 hours a week. _And under the circumstances_, this was a more satisfactory arrangement.

**Author's Note:** The next installment is a flashback chapter depicting Uhura's not so impressive first contact with Spock.

Your comments and suggestions are always welcome.


	4. Chapter 4 What's in a Name?

**Author's Note:** Thanks to my friend, Acquanetta, who took quite a bit of time out of her own life to assist me with this revision.

This new chapter represents the first of a two-part scene. Spock begins to see Uhura in a different light and - in a flashback scene - Uhura and Kirk reveal more about each other while engaging in verbal jousting. Your comments and suggestions are always welcome.

When Mr. Spock entered the small seminar room at 7:45 AM, he found Uhura already in conversation with one of the female students, Cadet Banerje. While the two women had been the only persons in the room, he noted the close proximity of their bodies as they spoke in tones so low, Spock could not discern their words - even with his superior auditory senses. He began to take his usual place at the head of the table, when he saw Uhura's bag and PADD already positioned there. He placed his PADD on the table next to hers.

Almost in unison, the two women greeted the Vulcan faculty member. "Good morning, sir."

"Good morning, Cadet Uhura. Cadet Banerje."

Moving a few steps toward him, Uhura said, "I hope I was not too forward by taking the head of table position. After all, you did say I would serve as facilitator for today's discussion."

"Yes, of course. Your seating position is appropriate." Noting Cadet Banerje presence, he turned to her with _a look_ unambivalent in its meaning.

"Excuse me, sir, but I think I'll get a quick drink of water before class begins."

Spock waited for the Cadet to leave before speaking to Uhura. "The primary reason for suggesting I meet you at 7:45 AM is to allow time for me to answer any questions you may have before the start of the session."

"Sir, I apologize if I misinterpreted your instruction. I thought you just wanted to ensure my prompt arrival. In actuality, I've been here since 7:30 speaking with Cadet Banerje, whose counsel has put me at ease."

Two beats. "Cadet Banerje, who is a _student_ in this class, provided you with counsel which put you at ease."

"Yes, sir." She picked up his PADD and turned on her most luminous smile. "And, sir. I believe it may be best for you to sit at the opposite end of the table." His eyebrow rose up, but he did accept his PADD, as well as, her seating _recommendation._ Uhura excused herself from him as students began to enter the room. She greeted each one by name.

_Fascinating._ Spock observed Uhura from his seat. Although she had graded their papers, Uhura must have taken the time to match each student with his/her image, as found on the course roster. _Earlier, she seemed to be having quite an intimate conversation with Cadet Banerje. How did Cadet Uhura know her? With Cadet Banerje being a first year student, it would be highly unusual for them to fraternize with each other._ Spock had, yet, to identify Uhura's strategy, but he truly looked forward to what else the morning would bring.

Spock's brief introduction of Uhura as the seminar's guest facilitator was the last any of the students heard from the Vulcan in the next ninety minutes. Uhura simply would not let anyone believe she was not in charge, although at the beginning of class she definitely was challenged. However, she had expected that reaction from these newbies.

In many ways, Uhura felt light years from the time she first entered the Academy. Yet, she could easily recall the thinly veiled arrogance she and many of her classmates wore as though a badge of honor. After all, they were not ordinary recruits, but college graduates _invited_ to join the corps. Many, like Uhura, had earned high academic honors as undergraduates at prestigious universities throughout the galaxy. Others, like Dr. Leonard McCoy, already had a number of years of experience in their fields. When told during orientation that nearly one third would not make it to graduation, none thought they would be a part of that unfortunate statistic. They were special. They were the chosen ones and they knew it.

First year student Nyota Uhura strutted across the quad with a swagger that portrayed her extreme confidence in her abilities. Her father – Husani Uhura - first recognized her gift for languages when she was only three years old. She did not simply imitate the words she heard, his daughter absorbed and cherished them like jewels. By eight, she could converse in over a dozen Bantu languages. She recorded and catalogued any of her African compatriots who remembered even one word of the hundreds of tribal languages which once graced the continent. Later, the University of Narobi convinced a 14 year old Nyota to donate her precious language data crystals to their institution for preservation and further study. At 17, she enjoyed her first stint as an interplanetary cultural exchange student. After earning a linguistics degree summa cum laude from Harvard, Nyota turned down dozens of offers for graduate fellowships at traditional universities to join Starfleet. To earn a doctorate in xenolinguistics, she reasoned there was no better way to expand her knowledge and experience than to take advantage of the opportunities a Starfleet career would afford.

"Hey, Cindy. . . slow down. We're both headed to the same place."

Uhura did not have to look back to see who was behind her. She knew it could be none other than Kirk, the Iowa farm boy who had become her daily verbal sparring partner. As he came by her side, she responded, "_Cindy Uhura_. Really, Kirk, do I look like a Cindy to you?"

"You sound like a Cindy."

"It is difficult to speak Standard Federation with what you would hear as a heavy accent typical of speakers of my native tongue. So, I choose not to do so."

"So, what is your native tongue?"

"And have you recite every possible female given of my people? No thank you."

"_My _people. Haven't you heard, we're just one, big happy human family."

"I am my father's daughter."

"What is that suppose to mean?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Why not? Because I'm just a _dumb hick?_"

Stopping, she turned to him. "_The Iowa Incident_."

"It has a title now?"

"I've already told you several times I had no cause to call you that. And, even if you were being a bit of a creep that night –"

"I heard you were quite turned on."

" . . . my need for assistance was misinterpreted and, unfortunately, led to your beat down."

"In my version – _The Iowa Incident: The Untold Story_ - I got the best of my moronic attackers _without a scratch on my person_."

"What kind of drugs are you on?"

"You were about to apologize."

"How many times must I apologize about that?"

"According to your Christian scriptures, 70 X 7 times."

"In that particular passage – Matthew 18:22 - Jesus is speaking of the number of times one should forgive, not apologize!"

"Then, forgive me . . . Wilhelmina."

Uhura cannot help, but laugh. She could not stay annoyed at him for long . . . that is, most times. "Wilhelmina is not my name."

"Even Rumpelstiltskin set constraints on how long one had to guess his name."

"You better have your mommy read the story, again. His name was successfully guessed by miller's daughter within three days, because she was working under the tremendous stress of knowing she'd lose her first born if she failed. Now, I really don't think you're asking me for similar terms."

"I could use a hint."

"Why don't you just give up? You've known me for nearly four months and you are no closer to knowing my name now than you were the day I first met you."

"Elena? . . . Josefina? . . . Ynez?"

"No . . . No . . . And, no. By the way, stop pestering my roommate about it. Gaila doesn't know it either."

"It's not even listed on the class roster."

"The only information required to be posted for public record is my last name and rank. Anyone else has to have the appropriate clearance to access any other personal data."

"So, what's behind this? Are you in a witness protection program or some shit like that?"

"If you must know my . . ."

"Spell it, first. I want to put it in my PADD."

" . . . _reason_ for not making my first name common knowledge, I can - at least – tell you that."

Stepping closer to her. "Your secret is safe with me."

"It may not be important in your culture, but in mine - names are not given lightly. My people may wait up to eight days after the birth of a child before naming the baby. Names are carefully considered, since they are believed to have a significant influence on the child's destiny. As is our custom, I received my name from my father."

"Is that what you meant by your earlier statement – _I am my father's child_."

"The meaning of that statement is much more complicated than that."

Smirking, "Of course, it is."

"Do you want to hear this or not?"

"Go on."

"People of your culture tend to want to change one's name . . . shorten it or try to make it . . . cute. Pamela becomes Pam. Kenneth becomes Ken. Jennifer becomes Jen. And, Richard somehow becomes Dick. It is quite disrespectful. So, I choose not to allow other people to do that. My surname is Uhura and that's all most people need to know."

Two beats. "Maybe there's something _you_ don't understand about _our _culture. Many people will provide a more formal name for a birth certificate, but use a more casual name for everyday living. For instance, I also received my name from my father, in my case, right before he died. He asked that I be called, Jim . . . just Jim. But, on my birth certificate there is a more formal name – James Tiberius Kirk. Yet, everybody I know – _except for you and my mother_ – calls me, Jim."

"But your father, he did not actually see you, did he?"

"That's right."

"Then it was your mother's right to alter you name as she saw fit. In those first hours of your life, she was the one who held you . . . watched you . . . began to know you. She could then choose a name which mirrored the aspirations she held for you."

His smile suddenly tightened, "You give my mother more credit for being perceptive than what is probably warranted. She has proven she is not really a good judge of people."

Unwavering, she met his gaze, smiling to soften her words. "James Tiberius Kirk is a fitting name for someone who believes her son will be a great man. You can't tell me you don't share her aspirations for your future. After all, aren't you the humble soul who predicted he'd captain his own starship before he reached the age of 30? . . . Am I right?"

Kirk relented, presenting his patented boyish smile as a flag of surrender. "I did say that." Indeed, it was quite a statement considering no one less than 35 had ever been appointed to that position in Starfleet's history.

"Oh yeah, you said it, all right - even though I doubt if all your pubic hair has had a chance to grow in, yet."

"Would you care to personally investigate that assumption, _Gretchen_?"

"Come along, _James_, or we'll be late." She said, resuming her brisk pace.

Following her. "Since when do we care to be on time for Dr. Greeley's course?"

"First, I have _never_ been late for Dr. Greeley's course. Second, with xenolinguistics as my field, what would it look like if I showed up late to an Introduction to Vulcan course. Third, we have a guest speaker and I want to make sure I get a good seat."

"First, Dr. Greeley spends more time putting us to sleep with stories about her 25 years on Vulcan, than she does teaching the language. Our time would be better spent in independent study, than listening to her drone on. Second, if you showed up late, maybe people would just think that some handsome, but rugged looking young man had _rocked your world_, last night." Uhura flipped him the _speak to the hand _signand then quickened her pace. Kirk easily kept up with her. "And believe me, you never ever have to worry about your seat being taken. No one wants to sit in the first row, let alone the first row center of Dr. Greely's course."

"If you really knew anything . . ."

"I can feel a _dumb hick_ comment on its way."

". . . you would know you cannot truly understand a language unless you come to know the people who speak it. Dr. Greely is one of the few Terrans certified to teach the language. We're lucky to have her, since Vulcans won't serve as language instructors."

"Because they're so damn pompous, they don't believe most Terrans can speak it correctly. If this wasn't a core course, you wouldn't see me wasting my time with it."

"How could it be a waste of time with Mr. Spock as our guest speaker?"

"The Vulcan in the physical sciences department?"

"He's the only Vulcan faculty member at the Academy."

"We'll have to deal with him soon enough. Why do we need to listen to him, now?"

"For obvious reasons."

"Show and tell?" Imitating Dr. Greeley voice. "Attention, class – today, we're going to see a real live Vulcan!"

"You're being childish."

"Then tell me, what's the point? Haven't their race been poking their noses in Earth affairs for the last 200 years?"

"Yes, but what do we really know about them?"

"That's their doing. They're so . . . secretive. And, it was presumptuous of _them_ to believe we needed them to get involved with _our_ planet's development after Zefram Cochrane invention of our first warp-drive spaceship."

"All right, pompous – yes – _and_ secretive, but without their help it would have taken most of the world much longer to get out of the dark ages."

"That's definitely an academic point now, since they didn't give us a chance to try it on our own."

"Well, I for one am glad Vulcans came when they did or I may not be here to have this discussion with you, today."

"What is that suppose to mean?"

"You know I really don't have the time to enlighten you on the history of my people."

"What's up with all this _my people _shit?"

Stopping at the entrance of their academic building. "Listen, Kirk. You, obviously, are not in the right frame of mind to add anything to an _informed _discussion of Vulcan life and traditions. So, why don't you just shut up and sit in the back with McCoy like you always do. Instead of using your PADD for proper instructional purposes, I'm sure you'll entertain yourself by browsing through the images of female cadets in search of your next victim." Kirk followed her as she quickly walked down the hall toward their classroom.

"You make it sound as if I am some sort of sexual predator?"

"If the shoe fits . . . "

"All of the women I date . . .

"Is that what you call it?"

" . . . can be categorized as _more than willing_ _participants_."

"Is that right?"

"Oh, so do I note a touch of jealousy?"

"I'll never be _tha_t hard up."

"Never say never. Maybe one day, the two of us will be stranded on a deserted planet and you'll have to play the part of Eve to my Adam."

At the entrance of classroom, Uhura stops and turns to him. "If we somehow found ourselves on a deserted planet . . . " She bends towards his ear speaking in a low, sexually charged voice. " . . . you would just have to be satisfied listening to me _pleasure myself_ . . . " Cooing. " . . . over . . . and over . . . and over . . . again." She pulls back smiling.

Three beats, while Kirk takes a couple of deep breaths in an attempt to control his arousal. He recovers to say, "Hey, why am I just listening? Can't I, at least, watch?" Kirk follows Uhura into the classroom.

**Author's Note:** Your comments and suggestions are always welcome.


	5. Chapter 5 First Impressions

_Despite what I said in my previous post, this has now become a three-part scene. In this section, a flashback scene reveals Uhura as a first year cadet, making a less than flattering impression with Spock. Kirk, McCoy, Gaila and a few new characters figure prominently in the narrative. Reviews are always welcome._

As Uhura and Kirk entered from the back of the medium-sized, lecture hall, she checked her PADD for the time and sighed in relief when she saw four minutes still remained before the beginning of class. As predicted, Kirk went no further than the last row where he parked his body next to Dr. Leonard "Bones" McCoy, the noted Georgia-bred surgeon. Distrustful of modern technology, Starfleet appeared to be an ill-chosen career move until Bones disclosed, "I ran away to the circus to escape further fleecing by my ex-wife. Even that humorless barracuda had a good laugh when she found out she spends more on salon appointments than I'll make in a year."

Although in vastly different stages of their careers and life experiences, Kirk and McCoy became fast friends. McCoy enjoyed living vicariously through the younger man's – sometimes - reckless exploits. For Kirk, Bones represented a stabilizing force who bluntly spoke his mind. There was nothing _politically correct_ about the good doctor.

McCoy kept his focus on Uhura shapely derriere as she headed to the front row and sat next to Gaila. Speaking to Kirk, "So, Jim-boy, are you any closer to getting into her pants?"

"I'm wearing her down . . . bit by bit."

"I'll take that response as an unqualified – no."

"Uhura's just playing hard to get." Reflecting. "I like that. It makes the prize more . . . enticing . . . desirable. I can wait as long as it takes."

Two beats. "So, while we're waiting for this little love story to play out, who's going to keep you warm?"

A sly smile crosses Kirk's face as he brings up an image on his PADD.

As other students fill the rows behind them, Uhura looks to her Orion roommate. Today, Gaila could easily be featured in a recruitment ad with her perfectly pressed cadet's pantsuit, shiny black oxfords, and ordinarily bright red hair muted in a conservative bun. "Gaila, why the first row this morning?"

"I thought I would keep you company."

"And your appearance . . . such a flawless depiction of _spit and polish_."

Innocently, "Thank you."

"So, why are you trying to impress our guest speaker?

Taken aback. "Mr. Spock? Really, Uhura that would be a complete waste of time. Orion women have no absolutely no affect on Vulcan men. It's Dr. Greeley I'm trying to impress."

"Dr. Greeley?"

"You know I got one of the lowest scores in the class on the last exam."

"Not one of the lowest . . . it _was the lowest_."

"Tied for the lowest – so technically I had _one _of the lowest scores."

"I stand corrected."

"Unlike you, I couldn't care less about learning anything about _those people_. But, this is a core course and I've got to pass it."

"So explain how that will happen by you sitting in the front row."

"It has its advantages. For instance, you'll be able to nudge me each time I doze off . . . "

"Oh, that will certainly impress Dr. Greeley."

" . . . and she'll believe I've turned over a new leaf and will pass me, because . . . "

"She doesn't want to see you back in the class?"

Two beats, then the women break out in laughter. "Sounds ridiculous doesn't it?"

"Sounds pretty desperate." Uhura takes up her PADD to access her calendar. "You meet me in the language lab after dinner at 6:30 PM. We'll review the basics and then download some of the exercises that you can do at your convenience." Adding the appointment to her calendar. "With a little extra work, you'll be able to pass the class. I know you can."

"Thanks, roommate. I don't know how to repay you."

"Stop bringing your conquests to our room as though it were your private hotel suite."

"How about something that I'll _want_ to do?"

"Well . . . you're the whiz with computers. I'm counting on you to help me with that computer systems course I have to take next semester. You know the one that was _so elementary_ _to you_ that you tested out of the course."

"A moron could pass that class."

Good naturedly. "All right, _this moron_ is eliciting your help. Is it a deal?"

"It's a deal." The women shake hands just as Dr. Greeley enters with Mr. Spock from the front of the lecture hall. Spock appears to be carrying a trapezoid-shaped musical instrument case. He sets it on the table near the lectern, and then stands erect with hands clasped behind his back.

It was not the first time Uhura had laid eyes on the Vulcan. She first noticed him one Wednesday as she met with her Bible study group, which met on the quad. At 12:19 PM exactly, he strode past them with PADD in hand - probably on his way to a class. Tall, with a lean, muscled physique . . . not a black hair on his head out of place . . . a fine, strong, classical looking face with no sign of a blemish . . . _But oh, those large pointy ears . . . They make him look like an overgrown elf. _After their study session ended, Uhura asked an upperclassman named Jordan about the Vulcan's identity. "That has to be Mr. Spock from the science department. He's pretty well connected, but has quite a list of accomplishments in his own right. He's tight with Pike, so you know you couldn't go wrong trying to get on his good side if you want to excel in the StarCorps."

The next Wednesday, she didn't know why she began watching for him out of the corner of her eye. To her amazement, he passed by as he had last week at exactly 12:19 PM. The following weeks she convinced herself she was simply conducting an experiment to see how long he could adhere to this routine. According to her findings, he never wavered in his punctuality or movement made of long, catlike steps that never deviated in length or pace from week to week. _But those ears are still a problem . . . He really would look almost human if his hair were a little longer. _Of course, her father would not think anything could improve his appearance. He would say, "He is still an alien. A zebra without his stripes is still a zebra." _Baba would not approve of this man._

Dr. Greeley took her usual stance behind the lectern, and carefully lined up her note cards before her. Then, she began _reading _the introduction of her guest, barely looking up from her written comments. Spock's bio should have inspired; however, her instructor's monotone delivery could do little more than serve as a cure for insomnia. "Being the son of Sarek - the renowned Ambassador to the Federation Council - afforded Dr. Spock the rigors of a Vulcan education with the benefit of traveling extensively throughout the galaxy on his father's diplomatic journeys. Imagine dining with some of the greatest thinkers and leaders of the modern era as if they were your next door neighbors . . . " The minds of the cadets began to drift off toward more compelling thoughts – such as, what was on the cafeteria lunch menu.

Dr. Greeley continued, "Over the years Dr. Spock has built a distinguished reputation that – dare I say - took him out from his father's shadows. The only student to complete studies at the Academy in 2.5 years, he earned a coveted assignment on the Enterprise – the flagship of the Federation's armada. Under Captain Christopher Pike, his notable skills and service allowed him to quickly rise to the rank of Lt. Commander. After two tours of duty and while the Enterprise is undergoing extensive renovations, he accepted a teaching and research position at the Academy." Uhura nudges Gaila when the Orion woman began to nod off.

"Mr. Spock continues to excel in both the academic and scientific communities. Only in his early-thirties – that is, according to the Terran calendar . . ."Kirk leaned toward Bones, "I thought torture had been outlawed under the Honari Convention."

" . . . he has already won honors that usually take a lifetime to receive. Some of the most notable, being the Nobel Prize for Physics, Cochrane Medal of Science, and the V'Larian Award for Logic. I could go on and on about this remarkable man. However, you did not come, today, to hear me. So, without further adieu, I present to you, Dr. Spock." The students regained consciousness in time to give polite applause.

Spock scanned the room. _Sixty-four percent of their eyes appear glazed over. All too typical of first year students exhausted from demanding academic studies on weekdays and service training on weekends. _Then . . . in the front row . . . he saw . . . her. Unlike most of the other students, she was alert and bright-eyed. Without a doubt, he knew she was the same petite, brown skinned woman he saw on the quad with a group that recently had been congregating there on Wednesdays.

When Spock asked about the group during one of their Friday morning meetings, Pike identified the assemblage as a Christian-interest club. According to the Captain, "My understanding is they used to meet in the Commons area of one of the dorms. Like some of the other religious groups on campus, I suppose they wanted a bit more visibility by meeting in the heart of the campus."

"Of course," Spock commented, "Any culturally literate person should be aware of this ancient religion's significance to Earth history. However, it is illogical for anyone in this day and age to be a practitioner of such a myth-based system."

"In the past, it is true religion had been used as a justification for intolerance, the suppression of ideas, and even genocide. After the Eugenics Wars, religious thought was subdued and forced underground. Ironically, it was the Romulan Wars that created a climate of extreme insecurity which allowed people of faith to, once again, talk openly about their beliefs and practices."

"Then for Terrans, religion functions like a child's security blanket. It provides the illusion of protection against real or imagined threats."

"Mr. Spock, I'm a military man and student of history - not a member of the clergy or an adherent to these beliefs. So perhaps, I'm not the best one to address your comment. However, whatever their motivations for their faith, so be it. If it lets people feel a little less lonely or purposeless in our infinite universe, then I say _amen_ to that."

Pike's comments had not persuaded Spock to think differently about religion or its practitioners. Still, oddly enough he found himself seeking the young woman out with his peripheral vision as he walked by each Wednesday on his way to his quantum physics course. And – he would never admit this to the Captain – but, when he did see her, it strangely brought him a strange sense of . . . _comfort_. She was as reliable as the sun, beaming brightly amongst all the others.

In Dr. Greeley's class, Spock knew he had a difficult task ahead of him, but the Vulcan was definitely up for the challenge. "Dr. Greeley - with all due respect – instead of a simple lead-in to my presentation, as I had requested, your introduction appeared more fitting for an eulogy. I assure you, I am not dead . . . yet." In a delayed reaction, the class suddenly realized Spock made a joke. Laughter gradually filled the room. Dr. Greeley just smiled, seemingly unaware the joke was on her. "Also, I am sure professional courtesy is the justification for the use of the title _Dr._ before my name. While it is true, I have earned three doctoral degrees in physics, engineering, and rhetoric, Dr. Greeley is well aware Vulcans customarily only use the title of doctor to refer to those who earned a medical degree. Therefore, I prefer to be simply known as _Mr. _Spock."

To Jim, Bones quipped, "Looks, like we're finally getting an Introduction to Vulcan."

Dr. Greeley now appeared to shrink back into the wall. Uhura respected Dr. Greeley, but it was refreshing to listen to a true native of this illustrious, yet, at times, mysterious culture. Then, Spock did something none had expected. He looked to Dr. Greeley with the corners of his mouth turned up slightly in what could possibly be called a smile. "Thank you, Dr. Greeley, for accommodating my demonstration on cultural differences."

Sighing with relief, she timidly replied, "Yes, yes . . . of course. You are quite welcome, _Mr._ Spock." She took a seat in a chair near the lectern.

Addressing the class, "Vulcans, of course, are renowned for their achievements in the sciences. However, it is our belief our contributions in this field is so prodigious, because our education places equally as much importance on the humanities – literature, philosophy and the arts."

Moving to the instrument case, he opens it. "For instance, from the time a Vulcan child can sit upright, he begins his first lessons on the ka'athyra." He removes an instrument shaped like a lyre and cradles it carefully in his arms. "The traditional version features twelve strings tuned to a diatonic scale. One of the principal misconceptions of our culture is we are an emotionless people. While it is true the purging of all emotion is the objective of our ritual, known as Kolinahr; this high state of consciousness is a choice not undertaken or successfully completed by many of our people. For most, it would be more accurate to say we strive to be emotionally detached. We learn to adopt this posture, because it allows us to function unencumbered with feelings which inhibit logical thought." Silence. Two beats. "However, music and poetry, the give us _permission_ to express sentiments which we rarely allow to surface . . . joy . . . pain . . . compassion . . . sorrow . . . tenderness . . . and even, desire." Silence. Two beats. He asked, as if it were necessary, "May I play something for you?" The room filled with applause. He had them. That is, all but Kirk who resisted falling under the Vulcan's spell. _He'd make a great puppeteer._

Spock continued, "I will play an ancient lullaby, perhaps, the first song a Vulcan baby hears upon birth." All of the women, even Gaila, sighed. "As you know, sometimes, the true meaning is sometimes lost in translation." Spock sits. "In essence, a mother reassures her child saying," Almost in a whisper, "_I will always be with you_." Another sigh.

Spock proved himself a gifted artist. His fingers glided effortless across the strings, producing gentle tones of strength, beauty and grace. Although a Vulcan song, the music evoked feelings of childhood nostalgia no matter one's origin. The melody recalled warm remembrances of _what was_ . . . or, in the case of Kirk, _what should have been_. At song's end, there was silence. For a moment, Spock's eyes met those of the brown skinned woman in the front row and saw a tear escape down her cheek. Then . . . there was thunderous applause. Spock nodded in acknowledgment, and then rose to put away his instrument despite the calls for another selection.

Uhura was not sure why the song had moved her so. She did not normally think of herself as sentimental, but the sweet sounds coming from Mr. Spock's ka'athyra did, indeed, touch her very core. However, when Dr. Greeley got up from her seat and asked the class for questions, Uhura quickly wiped away her tear in an attempt to compose herself. She was not going to miss her chance to practice speaking Vulcan with a native speaker. However, Dr. Greeley first recognized Cadet Maxus, a trill in the body of a tall, buxom woman sporting a fashionable bob haircut - that barely met regulations. Gaila nudged Uhura, as Maxus rose from her seat smiling and allowed her tongue to lightly lick her bottom lip. Gaila whispered, "Much too obvious."

"Cadet Maxus, sir. I am in the process of choosing courses for next term and I wondered how I might benefit from _your_ instruction, sir." Uhura rolled her eyes, but even she did not expect Spock's biting response.

"Cadet Maxus, due to our extraordinary longevity, there are some among my race who still consider me as a youth. However, let me assure you, I was not born yesterday." Sharply. "You may take your seat." Maxus seemed to wilt under his glare. Addressing the class, "My courses and research at the Academy are only for the serious-minded. I expect all cadets to perform admirably striving for no standard less than excellence in scholarship, service, and deportment." The students realized the amiable artist, had now been replaced by the stern task master.

Dr. Greeley broke the awkward moment with what was either an odd laugh or the clearing of her throat. "Further questions for Mr. Spock?"Three beats. Bones leaned toward Kirk. "Who would dare to follow that?" After five beats that seemed like an eternity, Uhura boldly raised her hand. Relieved, Dr. Greeley nodded toward her star pupil.

When Spock saw that _she_ had raised her hand, he realized it would now be permissible for him to fully gaze upon the young woman. And, what he saw . . . pleased him . . that is, with the exception of those _small ears_. In a classroom full of cadets, at this moment in time he saw only _her_ . . . _skin the color of a milk chocolate . . . fleshy, full lips . . . a wide nose typical of people of an arid land . . . piercing, cat-like sepia eyes . . . a petite frame accented by curvy hips and legs that _. . . He abruptly became conscious of a dilemma. _Had you not rebuffed Cadet Maxus for her inappropriate advances? Would it not be hypocritical if my manner toward this woman expressed any signs of favoritism? _

As Uhura stood up, she unexpectedly felt a bit of anxiety as she faced the Vulcan. After a breath, for a moment she took comfort in the fact she had been practicing her question using Vulcan, since she heard Mr. Spock would visit their class. "Cadet Uhura, sir. Kima!"

Spock answered, coolly, in Standard Federation. "As you should know Cadet, it is still too early for kima. The word, _aru_, would be more appropriate at this time."

"Thank you, sir." _Come on, Uhura. You knew it was too early for that greeting. Get it together. _Another breath. Her usually glib tongue felt uncharacteristically heavy and clumsy; still, she kept to her game plan by asking her question in Vulcan. The awe she evoked in her classmates brought about a smile on her face. _Surely, Mr. Spock will be impressed._

Spock disappointed Uhura by, again, responding in Standard Federation. "Cadet Uhura, I commend you on your ability to use the d'tling in your speech. Even with the most accomplished non-native speakers, it is a difficult part of the language to master. Now, as for your question . . ."

Speaking in Vulcan. "Mr. Spock, I am sorry to interrupt. However, I request your response in Vulcan to hear – with all due respect to Dr. Greeley – a _true_ native speaker."

Spock's eyes met hers, causing the smile to fade from her face. From his aloof look, she could tell no compliment was to follow. "I choose to speak Standard Federation at this time, since the students of this course are still at the elementary stages of learning Vulcan. I want to make sure all have a full understanding of my response, _including you, Cadet Uhura_. While your use of the d'tling is laudable, your pronunciation requires much more practice."

Barely able to conceal her hurt. "Sir, could you not understand my meaning?"

"Oh, yes – I could understand you, but I do not believe you are cognizant of a few dubious errors. For example, assuming I have the correct context of your question, I believe you were attempting to say the word for language."

"Yes, I said 'lok.'"

He repeated, "Lok, Cadet Uhura?"

"Yes,sir - lok.

"Oh, my . . ." Dr. Greeley interjects, "Mr. Spock, perhaps, this correction could be made in private after class."

"It's all right, Dr. Greeley. I welcome Mr. Spock's feedback. Please continue, sir." She stood erect and ready to accept whatever criticism he would impart. "I was asking his opinion about the significance of the preservation of one's native language within the movement to use Standard Federation as the lingua franca for all planets of the alliance."

Outburst from Galica holding the screen of her PADD toward her roommate. "Oh, no . . . Uhura! You asked him about the preservation of his native penis!" Uhura's body sank like a rock in her chair as waves of laughter filled the room. Kirk did not join in the laughter, but neither did he feel any sympathy toward her predicament.

With the last remaining thread of her pride, she managed to look toward the Vulcan as he – thankfully – turned his attention to the rest of the class, while giving the appropriate pronunciation of the word for language – _lakh_. Spock explained how the sounds are similar, especially to a non-native speaker who would find the difference almost indecipherable. Until one could perfect the pronunciation, his advice was to avoid the two words altogether. He then gave an explanation for the Vulcan stance on Standard Federation and the value of sustaining a rich mosaic of native tongues throughout the known galaxy. Uhura probably would agree with much of what he had to say, but she heard little of the discussion as she continued to wallow in embarrassment. When Dr. Greeley finally recognized the next questioner, Uhura was grateful.

The young man stood and took a breath. Unlike Uhura, he would stick to using Standard Federation. "Cadet Mendez, sir. Mr. Spock is it true you met T'Plau M'Kloek, that is, before she died?"

"Yes, that is correct. It is fortunate I met her before her death, since it would have been problematic to meet after her cremation."

Laughter. "Yes, sir. I'm a bit nervous, sir." He continued to stand, but did not speak.

"Is there something else I can do for you, Cadet?"

More laughter. "Oh, yes . . . I'm a bit nervous."

"I believe we've established that. Perhaps, there is something else you wanted to know about M'Kloek."

"Right – I mean . . . yes, sir. It's just that M'Kloek is one of my favorite writers. I especially enjoyed her volume of poems, _Visions of Scarlet."_

"I take it you read the translation by the Terran, Frank Miller."

"Yes, sir. I did."

"Then, unfortunately, you failed to read it at all. Mr. Miller did not sufficiently have command of the Vulcan language. If he did, he would have known his choice of the word, _scarlet_, is not even close to the true hue of the original title. A more suitable word would have been . . . "

_Coliquecot. _Uhura knew this word and had read M'Kloek's poems in their original Vulcan.

Spock completed his sentence. " . . .coliquecot."

"Thank you, sir." Mendez looked over to Uhura who had introduced him to the author when he needed a subject for a term paper. She certainly had not advised him to read Miller's version, since she knew of the controversy regarding the translation.

Noting Mendez still standing, "Is there more, Cadet Mendez?"

Another breath. "Yes, sir . . . it's just that you've met one of my favorite writers of all-time . . ." Uhura rolled her eyes. ". . . and I won't ever get a chance to meet her."

"Very astute of you, Cadet Mendez."

"So, sir, since you have had the honor of meeting her, could you let me know . . .what was she like? What was M'Kloek like?"

"What was M'Kloek _like_? Cadet Mendez, Standard Federation is obviously not your first language."

"Yes, sir." Laughter filled the room, while the cadet braced himself for the verbal onslaught from the exacting faculty member.

Unexpectedly, the artist returned to Spock. "M'Kloek was _like_ . . . the breath of an infant . . . the prick of a thorn . . . the sweet smell of c'eemlong . . . the sight of one's lover gone too long." Uhura knew these were phrases from M'Kloek's most quoted poem, translated as _Impressions._ _How could anyone read her works and believe Vulcans an emotionless people? _Spock continued, "Cadet Mendez, my own impressions of this masterful poet should have little significance to one who holds her artistry dear."

"Yes, sir." Finally, Cadet Mendez took his seat.

After class, some students gathered around Mr. Spock for questions they were unable to ask during the session. All Uhura wanted to do was leave the lecture hall, as quickly as possible. She gave an abrupt, "See you, later" to Gaila, but she heard Dr. Greeley's voice just as she attempted to make her way across the row and up the aisle leading to the exit. She looked to Kirk to possibly intervene, but he just gave her a mocking _thumbs up_ and headed out the door with Bones.

Dr. Greeley words were hardly reassuring. "I'll admit I did not catch it the first time you said it. However, after Professor Spock had you repeat it and you clearly said _penis, _instead of the word, _language_ - the error was clear. Of course, there are some words that are pronounced the same, but have different meanings – such as the English words – the number _t – w – o_ and the preposition, _t – o_. Nevertheless, there is clearly a difference between penis – _lok_ - and the word for language – _lakh_. Any further questions about pronunciation, Cadet Uhura?"

Later that evening, Uhura endured Gaila's ribbing. She cooed, "So now I know what's really on your mind. Oh, Uhura, I was beginning to think you weren't normal." Uhura ignored her, as well as, the teasing of her other fellow cadets. As for Mr. Spock, with the exception of her Wednesday's sightings of him crossing the quad, she doubted if she would have much more to do with him during her time at the Academy. Introduction to Ethics was probably the only core course he taught that might end up on her schedule. However, with more than one section of the course offered each semester, she could transfer to another faculty member's class if need be.

By the time Dr. Greeley's class met two days later, Uhura learned to take the joking in stride . . . well almost. "Look on the bright side," Kirk told her, "you've gained a measure of immortality with the_ Vulcan Penis Story _which will undoubtedly be retold by cadets for _years and years to come_."

Uhura gave Kirk a mocking _thumbs up_, and then found her customary seat in the center of the first row. Within a few moments, Mendes unexpectedly plopped down next to her. "Uhura – I want to thank you, again for introducing me to M'Kloek. I' m more of a fan now than ever before."

"You certainly hung tough under Mr. Spock's scrutiny."

"Oh, he wasn't so bad. In fact, yesterday, I came by Dr. Greeley's office to talk about my last exam and she gave me something Mr. Spock had dropped off for me." Mendez reached in his book bag.

"Mr. Spock sent you one of M'Kloek's poems?"

"Not just one poem." He takes out a slender bound volume and opens it. "It's one of her volumes of poetry. It's not new and it seems to be written in, but - of course - it's the thought that counts."

"That looks like an inscription." Her heart sinks. "May I see it . . . please?"

"Sure." He hands her the book.

Examining the page, "The writing . . . it's M'Kloek's signature . . . and that is her seal. This is a Vulcan tradition with the first edition."

"M'Kloek's signature? Are you sure?"

Her voice rising, "Isn't she one of your most favorite writer's of all-time? Why do you even bother asking me about it?!"

"Do you think I can get a good price for it on E-Galaxtus?"

Uhura's face suddenly felt flush. _I think I'm going to be sick._

_Part III of this three-part scene should be up within the next seven days. Your comments and suggestions are always welcome._


	6. Chapter 6 You Matter to Me

This chapter is the third section of a three-part scene (see Chapters 4 and 5) showing how an incident from Uhura's first year at the Academy has affected her relationship with Spock when she became an upperclassman. Also, due to his own sense of propriety, Spock still finds it difficult to disclose true feelings concerning Uhura to her or himself. As always, your comments are most welcome.

After the Introduction to Vulcan class ended, Spock found himself surrounded by cadets unable (_or unwilling_) to ask their questions, during the session. While entertaining their queries, he kept an eye on Cadet Uhura who seemed to be in a hurry to leave the lecture hall. _She did appear somewhat discomfited when made aware of her error in which she confused the pronunciation for the word for "language" with the word for "penis." _He could then see Dr. Greeley had stopped the cadet's progress to the exit. _Whatever Dr. Greeley is telling her, the cadet appears even more embarrassed than before._ Spock did not understand this human emotion, since there was no term for _embarrassment_ in the Vulcan language. Cadet Uhura clearly stated she welcomed his feedback. _Yet,_ _she did not at all appear pleased when I fulfilled her request. _Spock watched as Uhura left the lecture hall and, not knowing why, he wondered _– What is she thinking?_

Spock looked forward to returning to his apartment after a full day of classes, committee meetings, and reading research progress reports. He prepared his dinner and sat down at the table to begin to eat, but unexpectedly – his thoughts turned to _her_. He reached for his PADD and searched for her image in the faculty-issued roster. He told himself this action was, indeed, appropriate. _After all, faculty should be familiar with as many of the cadets as possible . . . there she is . . . Cadet Nyota Uhura . . . birthplace . . . United States of Africa . . . demonstrated high scholarly promise and aptitude for xenolinguistics, that is, for a Terran. _

Again reflecting on the events in Dr. Greeley's class, his thoughts remained on _her._ _Embarrassed . . . Cadet Uhura appeared . . . embarrassed . . . quite an uncomfortable emotional state for a human_. He wondered what he could do to_ ease_ this discomfort. _The source of her distress was her inability to clearly articulate certain words. I could, perhaps, alleviate any future anxiety by offering to converse with her in Vulcan . . . once a week for thirty minutes . . .at an off-campus location._ He would not make this offer via his PADD for he knew these devices were easily compromised and he did not want to leave a digital trail. Instead, he would write her a note (although rarely used, he was sure he must have paper, an envelope and writing instrument somewhere in the apartment).

Spock suddenly became aware of a complication. While he certainly was not attempting to appear secretive - if others did learn of his proposal, would it not give the appearance of favoritism? Suddenly, the solution came to him. _T'Plau M'Kloek_. He rose and went to a small bookshelf containing a rare first edition the poet had signed and given to him when he was a child. He had brought it, along with several other items, to remind him of his Vulcan home. Not that he was sentimental_. _He once told Pike, "I keep these objects simply as decorative pieces to enhance an otherwise sterile environment. His captain replied dryly, "You know, Spock, sometimes you're full of shit."

Spock scheduled time between an appointment with a research assistant and an Enterprise Retrofit Oversight Committee Meeting to go by Dr. Greeley's office. With book and note in hand, he found his colleague there, seemingly deep in thought (_or asleep) _at her desk. With an I-Tablet in front of her, it appeared she may be reviewing class notes. This exercise never failed to fascinate him, since it was well-known Dr. Greeley had not changed even a comma of her lectures in over 20 years. Spock stood before her, but she seemed unaware of her presence. . . _She's definitely asleep._

Dr. Greeley appeared startled when Spock cleared his throat to get her attention. Rising abruptly, "Good-morning, Mr. Spock . . . It is still morning, isn't it?"

"Yes, Dr. Greeley, your greeting is still appropriate."

"I was just thinking about you."

_Dreaming would be a more accurate choice of words._ "Then it was fortuitous I came by."

"I do not believe I had the chance to thank you properly for your presentation, yesterday. After living on your home world for over two decades, I know very few of your people would have been so accommodating."

"Dr. Greeley, it has less to do with me being a Vulcan, than it has to do with my current appointments as a Starfleet officer and Academy faculty member. I believe it my duty to oblige such colleague requests when possible."

"I still find your attitude quite refreshing. Perhaps, it is because of your bi-species heritage of being half-human and half-Vulcan."

Raising an eyebrow. Sternly, "Although I may be half-human, madam, I can assure you that one can never be half-Vulcan."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Spock, I did not mean to offend. I actually have an affinity for your people."

"Yes, I believe you think that is a fact."

Not knowing if she has been insulted, Dr. Greeley sits back down at her desk. "Is there something that I can do for you, Mr. Spock? What is the reason for your visit?"

Now, he did not know if he should bother, but he could not think of a better alternative. "During your class, yesterday, there were two students who particularly impressed me – Cadets Mendez and Uhura. I would personally like to encourage both students to continue their studies of Vulcan culture." He hands the book to Dr. Greeley. "For Cadet Mendez, a volume of M'Kloek's poems."

Opening it, amazed. "Mr. Spock, this looks like a first edition. If so, it is priceless"

"It is."

Coveting the pages, "Mr. Spock, you are too generous."

"I've had it for a long time. It is now appropriate for someone else to have an opportunity to gain pleasure from this master of the arts. Perhaps, it will inspire Cadet Mendez to share his enthusiasm for her works with others."

"I am hopeful he will appreciate the worth of this magnanimous gift."

"As for Cadet Uhura, if you would provide her with this note." He hands her an envelope.

Barely hiding her disappointment."A note, Mr. Spock?"

"Does something trouble you, Dr. Greeley?"

"I, obviously, have no personal stake in this matter. However, in my course, I've found Cadet Mendez to be an average student, despite his professed interest in M'Kloek's writings. However, Cadet Uhura's work is most often outstanding – despite the articulation problem she demonstrated, yesterday."

"I am sure your assessment of their abilities is quite accurate. Nevertheless, I would appreciate if you would carry out my request, as directed."

Two beats. "Yes, I understand."

"Thank you, Dr. Greeley." Spock nods toward her and leaves.

Dr. Greeley picked up her I-Tablet to check her appointments that day. _Hmmmm . . . . just as I thought_ _. . . Cadet Mendez had scheduled a meeting later in the day to discuss his last exam . . . I suppose I could give him Mr. Spock's present at that time, but I doubt if he will fully appreciate its worth. _She then picked up the envelope Spock meant for Uhura, staring intensely at it as if to enable her to read its contents. After studying the Vulcan people and culture for so long, Dr. Greeley arrogantly believed _I know those people, perhaps, better than they know themselves. Although they did have honorable intentions, their blunt manner could be quite hurtful to a human_. She certainly knew this well by experience, having endured years of their _thinly veiled disparaging comments_ with the objective of being one of the few humans to earn certification to teach Vulcan.

Although the message might be well-meaning in a Vulcan context, Dr. Greeley was sure Spock's note would end up being interpreted as another reminder of Uhura's inadequacies. _At this stage in the Academy, it would be inappropriate to adversely impact the self-confidence of one of my star pupils. _So, Dr. Greeley convinced herself that placing the envelope in her desk drawer would spare Uhura's feelings for the time being. _One day, when she nears graduation, I'll give it to her and we can have a good laugh about it._

On Wednesday morning of the following week, Jordan sought out Uhura in the cafeteria having breakfast. He asked her, "Did you receive the message?"

"You mean the one where our Bible study group is being provided meeting space in the Malcolm Reed Student Activities Center which - according to Superintendant Admiral Byron Riker - _I am sure will be adequate to accommodate your needs_." They laugh.

"With the rainy season coming up, I really don't have an issue with administration finding us an indoor space better than the Commons area where we met before coming to the quad. However, you know his actions are probably less the result of their goodwill, than some cadets complaints about our growing presence. So, they decided it would be best if we were _out of sight, out of mind_."

This circumstance had actually been good news to Uhura. Each time Mr. Spock would pass by their group meeting on the quad, it would be a reminder of her inadequate performance before the Vulcan. _Out of sight, out of mind. _Her happy response to Jordan did not reveal the true source of her delight. "Although we've never been allowed to proselytize on the campus grounds, they won't be able to _keep our light under a bushel_. We'll find creative ways to let people know we exist."

Two beats. Taking her in. "You definitely are in a joyful spirit this morning. So, you've finally gotten over your grudge concerning Mr. Spock's gift to Mendez?"

"I wouldn't call it so much of a grudge, than it was jealousy. However, after repeating the story for the 1,359th time, Miriam gives me that _look_. You know the one she gives you when she's about to blow your cover."

"Oh, yes – the _look_."

"So, she gives me the _look_ and says, _You know, Uhura, envy really isn't a Christian virtue._ Ouch!" They laugh. "_The Vulcan Penis Story_ may live on in Academy lore, but I'm through with the entire incident – including Mr. Spock."

When Spock began his walk through the quad later that day, he wondered if Cadet Uhura would raise her head to look at him as he passed by. She had not done so, last week. However, that was the day after he had visited Dr. Greeley's class and the _cadet may possibly still been experiencing a sense of embarrassment_. He checked the course schedule noting the Introduction to Vulcan course met twice a week. _Dr. Greeley would have had the opportunity to deliver my note to Cadet Uhura the next day._ Spock was sure he would hear from her shortly thereafter. Yet, days passed and – _strangely_ - there appeared to be no attempt by the cadet to contact him.

The following week on Wednesday, Spock walked across the quad during the noon hour, five minutes earlier than usual. While he would not concede the emotion, Spock now felt resentment toward Cadet Uhura for not even acknowledging his offer to serve as a conversation partner in the Vulcan language. _Was it not common courtesy for humans to respond to such a proposition? If she were such an exemplary student as Dr. Greeley had contended, then why was not such an offer appealing? _When he saw Cadet Uhura, Spock intended on asking her to step away from the group, so he could question her about _her unprofessional behavior_.

However, that day, there was no congregation of the Christian-interest group at their usual location. Later, he learned from Pike the Academy Superintendent had moved the group to another location. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious."

Pike looked at his friend with a skeptical eye. However, when Spock gave such a terse response, he knew not to probe any further. With the Vulcan Penis Story now making its rounds among faculty, Spock was not in the mood for any prodding. Quieter than usual, Pike could tell _there's something going on with Spock. _

Two years later in Spock's ethics seminar, Cadet Uhura proved herself to be an extremely capable guest facilitator. Early in the session, she made it quite clear who was in charge. After providing an overview to provide the context for their discussion, she asked a question to begin the session. After she acknowledged a male student, he turned away from her and directed his response toward Mr. Spock sitting at the opposite end of the seminar table.

Interrupting his response, "Cadet Elfenbein, I'm at _this end _of the table."

"Yes – but Mr. Spock is . . ."

"Cadet Elfenbein, as a newbie, have you not – _yet _– learned the proper way to address an upperclassman?"

"Yes, ma'am. I apologize, ma'am. I meant no offense by my earlier action."

"Cadet Elfenbein, did I give you the impression that I am a ventriloquist?"

"No, ma'am."

"Then, is it your usual practice to _turn away_ from the person asking you a question?"

"No, ma'am."

"So, now that we have established the proper protocol, you may begin your response, again."

Spock noticed a slight smile forming on Cadet Banerjee's lips, as Cadet Elfenbein gave Uhura his full attention.

As if she had not been in the same room during Uhura's deflation of Elfenbein's bravado, another cadet attempted to give a rambling, verbose answer to another one of her questions.

Interrupting. "Cadet Morar, did you actually have time to read today's assigned materials?"

Caught. "Well . . . ma'am . . . I . . ."

"Cadet Morar, that was a yes or no question. I expect an appropriate answer."

Two beats. "No, ma'am, I did not have a chance to review today's readings."

"Then I suggest you put your _shovel_ away and just listen."

For the remainder of the session, Uhura fascinated Spock by her performance. Like a seasoned faculty member, she asked probing questions which exposed erroneous underlying assumptions, while encouraging reflective conversation that promoted the use of the students' critical thinking skills. The ninety minute session appeared to fly by with the cadets seemingly reluctant to end their discussion. A few of the students thanked Mr. Spock for inviting her to class. "Will she be back, sir?"

Spock responded, "I will have to check her availability."

A few other students shook Uhura's hand and complemented her abilities. Spock noticed that when Cadet Banerjee approached her, Uhura leaned toward her as she spoke. However, unlike when they talked before class, Spock could hear their exchange. "Tell Manoj, his sister did the family proud."

"It was, indeed, a pleasure." She left the room.

Uhura turned toward Spock. "Sir, I welcome your critique."

Spock moved closer to her, forcing her to look up to him. At another time, Uhura may have felt intimidated, but – at this moment – she felt not in the least slighted. Their bodies stood only a few feet apart. Spock placed his hands clasped behind his back, in contrast to Uhura who crossed one arm behind her back, while she allowed the other arm to hang by her side.

"I am most interested in your process in preparation for this class."

"I reviewed the assigned readings, as well as, your suggested questions, sir."

"I do not recall you utilizing any of those questions for this session."

"I took them to be more as a springboard to formulate my own questions – using my own voice, sir."

"Before class began, you stated Cadet Banerjee served as your counsel; however, she is an underclassman and student in the course. In what practical way could she serve as your advisor?"

"Sir, I knew I would be tested."

"Tested? I did not speak a word during the entire seminar session."

"Not by you, sir, but by the newbies. I know it's been a long time since you've been in that situation; however, by tradition, upperclassmen usually give newbies a lot of shit." Realizing who she is talking to, she quickly adds. "Please pardon my language, sir."

"I am familiar with the term. It is appropriate in this context. I remember those days, well."

"Then you know, sir, that when newbies think they have a chance to stick it to an upperclassman, they do so and with a great deal of enthusiasm."

"If your assumption was correct, then why would Cadet Banerjee agree to assist you? Had you known her prior to this course?"

"When grading papers for the course, her name stood out to me since I have a good friend who I met at Harvard with the same surname. However, the name is so common, it would have been presumptuous of me to assume they were related."

"I concur."

"Then, yesterday, when you gave me the opportunity to facilitate the class, I decided to contact my friend to ask if he had any relatives in the office. It turned out Cadet Banerjee is his sister. A happy coincidence, sir!"

"Indeed."

"So, I contacted her and asked if she would meet me before class. She agreed, saying her brother had already been in touch and asked her to fully cooperate with me."

With an underlying edge, "He must have been quite a _good friend._"

Too much into her story to catch the insinuation within this voice, "One of my best friends at Harvard."

"I see."

"So, Cadet Banerjee provided information on each of her classmates – tendencies, biases, strong points, as well as, weaknesses. Also, she helped me study the images of the students with their names to be easily recognizable when walking into the room. As a result, by the time class was ready to begin, I felt fully prepared for my assignment." She grinned broadly and Spock could do little more than look at her. Not a flaw could be found in the logic of her strategy and she had executed her plan to perfection. In his eyes, she had given a masterful performance . . . one that was really . . . _quite stimulating_. "Mr. Spock," she called for his attention, "I would now appreciate your assessment of my facilitation skills."

Suddenly, another sensation . . . _a natural, but improper feeling_ . . . he wanted to . . . but, he should not . . . he wanted to . . . but, he could not . . . he wanted to . . . but, he must not. So, at this moment . . . all he could do . . . was look at her.

Five beats. Uhura stepped back from him, but refused to mute her spirit. "Two years ago - when I heard you would visit Dr. Greeley's class – I tried so hard to impress you. At that time, you had no trouble being quite candid and direct with your critique of my performance and I ended up looking like a fool before my peers." Two beats. "This time, I worked hard to prepare for this seminar, but I didn't do it to impress you. I did it for me!" Two beats. In a calmer voice, but with a slight edge, "So, now, sir – it's all right if you are _suddenly speechless_. It's fine with me. I don't mean any disrespect, Mr. Spock, but at this moment your opinion just doesn't matter to me." She turned sharply, picked up her PADD and bag from the table and walked out the door.

She had long left the room, when he spoke these words, "Cadet Uhura . . . you matter to me."

On her way to Dr. Greeley's office, Uhura walked across campus with a swagger she had not experienced since she first joined the Academy. She felt like a modern-day dragon slayer. _I certainly put Mr. Spock in his place!_ She had to laugh at herself when she remembered how there had been times she foolishly acted like a schoolgirl at just the sight of him. _Don't try to fool yourself, girl, you wore that lilac fragrance to try to please him and only last evening you melted when he simply told you, "Good night." _

_Uhura, you need to remember this is the same man who found no ethical problem with monitoring your PADD transmissions. The same man who had the nerve to question you about having a man in your own room – like it was any of his damn business. The same man who couldn't even find the wherewithal to pay you one small compliment. You really mean nothing to him. You can never mean anything to a Vulcan._

Now, conscious her elation had turned to anger, _Oh, no, Uhura – you are not going to let __that man__ ruin your day. You have to meet Dr. Greeley and your committee in a few minutes to discuss your upcoming doctoral exams. Your focus totally has to be on yourself and your future. _

Uhura walked into the Hoshi Sato Communication Sciences Building. As she moved through the halls toward her advisor's office, she noticed Dr. Greeley coming her way.

"Good morning, Cadet Uhura. Did you get my message? I just sent it this morning."

"I'm sorry, Dr. Greeley. My morning had been so busy, I neglected to check my PADD for any messages."

"We're going to have your doctoral committee meeting in Conference Room 2B, instead of my office. We should be on our way."

They begin to walk toward the room. "I am hopeful the committee members will share strategies on how to best prepare for my doctoral exams."

Rubbing her eye, "While you should expect little leniency when evaluating your exams, they will be unrelenting in the amount of advice they'll share on how to study for them. So, try not to be toooverwhelmed by their good intentions."

"Dr. Greeley, are you having a problem with your eye?"

"I suffer from dry eye syndrome. You would think there would be a cure for it by now, but there isn't. Treatments at the medical clinic help to alleviate it, but on rare occasions I need to use eye drops. I probably should have used some this morning, before I left the office."

At the door of the conference room, they note a few committee members already inside. "Ma'am, would you like me to retrieve your drops for you?"

"I suppose it would be best. I don't want to be distracted from such an important meeting by this pesky eye condition.

"Where can I find them?"

"I believe I last put the bottle in one of my top desk drawers."

In Dr. Greeley's office, Uhura came to her advisor's desk and first looked in the top drawer to her left. _Quite a bit of junk, but still no eye drops._ She then looked in the top drawer to her right. _This is almost as junky as the other one . . . wait . . . that looks like a small bottle under that envelope_. As she lifts up the envelope, the wording on the stationery catches her eye. _To: Cadet Uhura_ . . . _From: Mr. Spock_ . . . _What is this? . . . Why is something addressed to me in Dr. Greeley's drawer?_

In the next chapter, I will explore Spock's sexuality. Still, no fireworks between Uhura and Spock; however, I hope to set up the context for his reluctance to disclose his affections for her. I'm hoping to have it up for your review by the end of next week. Your comments are always welcome.


	7. Chapter 7 What's Love Got to Do With It?

**Author's Note: **Chapter 7 is the first part of a two-part scene. In Part I, Spock's sexuality is explored and Uhura reluctantly reveals she is interested in something more than his mind. A more explicit M-rated version of the first section is posted as a one-shot, under the title – _What's Love Got to Do With It? _Your comments are always welcome.

They had taken their traditional sexual position. It was not their first time, but never had he been so rough. She took pleasure in this new intensity. And, just as she felt the waves of emotion overtake her, she heard him call out. It sounded like a name, but it was not hers . . . it was something she did not recognize. _What is Nyota? _

Washed and dressed in civilian clothes with hair neatly in place, Spock sat down at T'Lau's table as she poured the tea. His impassive face contained no remembrance of the heated activities he had taken part in such a short time ago. Although it would be highly unlikely for him to impregnate her outside of Pon farr, he always assumed the responsibility for ensuring there would be no unintended consequences resulting from their occasional need to engage in acts to relieve carnal impulses. When necessary, consenting partners could experience intercourse, but adultery was strictly forbidden in such a society where order and harmony were paramount.

Since this was T'Lau's home, the Vulcan bio-systems consultant had no reason to get fully dressed. Although only clothed in a robe, the bulky and heavy material revealed little of the slender, but shapely body which she had let Spock use until he had enough. After having sex, there was no "pillow talk" for he never lay down in her bed. Instead, they would meet at a table to partake in the Vulcan obsession for tea.

She sat down beside him and picked up her teacup, letting the warmth of the container quiet her ordinarily active hands.

Despite their earlier sexual activities, as usual Spock chose business as the primary topic of their conversation with T'Lau, one of the project managers of the latest model of the Enterprise. Although six years older than Spock and an acclaimed expert in her field, T'Lau knew him to conversant with the technology and engineering specifications of the ship. No matter how significant or minute, any issue related to the building and operation of the Enterprise would be subject to his scrutiny. Spock charged, "The air purification system continues to be a problem, especially on the bridge."

"I gave a full report earlier today during the oversight committee meeting. We need not take the time to speak on it at this time."

"T'Lau, you seem to be confusing me with Admiral Jennings, who would not know a pattern buffer from a patter enhancer. Remember to whom you are speaking."

Relenting, "All life support systems will be ready for the Enterprise's first test run in March. There should be no delay in her maiden voyage scheduled for May."

"Captain Pike and I are far less concerned about meeting the starship construction deadlines, as we are with making sure each aspect of the Enterprise functions as intended at optimum efficiently."

"The product will meet Starfleet standards."

Sternly, "Then you will miss the mark. Most humans may be satisfied with something being just _good enough_, but that is not the measure you should use. You must satisfy Captain Pike's criteria and it is my duty to see that is accomplished. After two years on this project, you should be fully aware of this."

Two beats. "The admiral is the one who authorizes payment for my work. It was quite difficult to secure this assignment, because of their mistrust of our people. Do you believe I would jeopardize future contracts by not ensuring the work meet the expectations of all the significant parties?"

Studying her, "I watched you during the meeting and there seemed to be something . . . unspoken."

"Have you now developed a new talent as an empath? Is your mother human or Betazoid?"

"Our families have known each other for many years. Before my father joined the diplomatic corps, your father and mine served together in the Vulcan Academy of Sciences for over four decades. I think I know you well enough . . . "

" . . . to expect sex upon demand?"

"If you will recall, the first advance was yours, not mine. I had just turned 16 and you had just graduated from the science academy."

"Soon to undergo marriage to a man I did not want."

"I do not criticize your actions or your morals. I was a willing participant until you completed the bonding ritual with Sarin."

"I had no choice."

Two beats. "Tell me, T'Lau, what troubled you during the oversight committee meeting?"

"It concerned Karl Jorgenson's report from Palmer Industries on the warp drive. I cannot prove anything; however, there was something odd about the format used for the presentation."

"The format?"

"More precisely the EFM software used for the presentation. Four years ago I remember there was an aberration in version 7.0 which caused underlined text to appear unevenly spaced. I noticed it during the presentation and thought it odd if PI were still using that version, since a patch had been available for several years." Two beats. "It may be nothing."

"Or, it could be . . . I will need to look further into this, tomorrow." Looking at her directly. "Thank you, T'Lau. I owe you so much."

T'Lau reaches over to touch his ear, but he stops her hand.

He rises and reaches for his jacket at the back of the chair. "I need to return back to campus."

"You could remain here for the night."

"No, I cannot."

"Why not? Sarin died of Rigellian Fever over five years ago."

"There was to be no emotional attachment to our arrangement."

"You have not, yet, completed the bonding ceremony with T'Pring. Although your father is an extremely important man, your mixed heritage may be the key to finding a way to break the agreement before the time of the Pon farr."

"I will not discuss such private matters with you."

"I can help you, Spock."

" Good-night, T'Lau."

"What is _Nyota_?" T'Lau said it so calmly as if asking for the time of day, but she could tell from the tone of his voice that she had struck a nerve in Spock.

"How do you know that name?"

"So, it is not a what, but a who? Being unfamiliar with the name, I could not identify it. You said it as we were experiencing orgasm. Not very flattering, was it? Who is this _Nyota_?"

"She is no concern of yours."

"It is not _my_ _concern?!_ Do you really believe I have the capacity to disengage myself from the knowledge you are thinking of someone else, while you are having sex with me?!" Spock turns away from her unable to respond. Like a wounded animal, T'Lau now wants to cause him pain. "Nyota – what type of name is that? What species? Could it be, yet, another Terran? In disgust, "Humans! Did you not learn from the ill-fated affair you had with that Hawaiian woman? If I remember correctly, I believe she left you when you proved incapable of expressing your love to her . . . " She adds harshly, " . . . as though that really matters."

Turning to her, his words unequivocally stated, "How foolish I was to have shared that precious memory with you. As a young man, I trusted you with far too many matters close to my heart. I will not make that mistake, ever again." Spock moves toward the door, but T'Lau moves quickly to obstruct his exit.

"What of Nyota? Is she now close to your heart? Is that where you warm yourself when you are not with me?"

Unable to contain his rage, he takes T'Lau by her wrists - his tight hold causing her pain. "You will not hold her name in your mouth! Do you understand this, T'Lau?!" No response. He tightens his grip. "Answer me!"

As tears come to her eyes, she can only whisper, "Yes, yes . . . I understand."

Spock forcibly moves T'Lau from the door and leaves her with her own thoughts filled with anger, jealousy and confusion. She struggles for control, trying to calm her breathing to bring it back to its regular rhythm. _Spock, what have you done to me? . . . Bringing me down to their level . . . You are making me think like them . . . behave like them_ . . . _You will never be mine if I try to win you by acting like a human . . . Vulcans are the superior species . . . If I approach this as a Vulcan, Spock will need me as much I need him . . . It is only logical._

* * *

Earlier that day, Uhura went into Dr. Greeley's desk drawer to retrieve her advisor's eye drops and, surprisingly, found an envelope nearly two years old addressed to her from Spock. For a moment, she thought about how easy it would be for her to slip it in her bag. _It's been this long. Dr. Greeley probably will not even miss it._ Yet, she found herself placing the envelope back where she had found it. She moved quickly back to the conference room where her doctoral committee was meeting to discuss her upcoming comprehensive exams.

During her meeting, she had to continually direct her attention to the proceedings. She probably took more notes on her PADD than necessary, but the act helped her to retain her focus. _After all, your objective is to become a Starfleet officer and earn a PhD in xenolinguistics. Fixating on that envelope in Dr. Greeley's desk won't get you any closer to that goal._

After the ninety minute meeting, Uhura became upset with herself for not confronting Dr. Greeley about the envelope. She grabbed her bag and PADD, and then headed out the Communication Sciences Building. Looking at the time, she realized she could only take a quick break for lunch before she would need to report to Mr. Spock's office. _Mr. Spock_. She felt a knot growing in her stomach. She had spoken fairly harsh words to him earlier that day. While she believed she was justified, she regretted the choice of some of her words and tone of voice. It would be difficult to face him this afternoon, but she wanted a chance to apologize.

At one o'clock, Uhura entered Spock's office having rehearsed her apology in her mind. However, he was not at his desk. She should have been relieved, but she wanted to speak with him while the issue preyed on her mind. At her workstation, she checked his calendar and saw he had an Enterprise Oversight Committee Meeting that would take up his entire afternoon. She then focused her attention on grading papers and checking on the RSVPs for the upcoming symposium on Ensign Slovich's research project. However, toward the end of the work day, her thoughts returned to the envelope in Dr. Greeley's desk.

It was unlike Uhura to be ambivalent, but she couldn't decide how to handle the matter. She decided not to speak about it to anyone at the Academy, not even Gaila. Then she remembered, one of the _precious ones_ – one of her three closest girlfriends – was performing in a musical in Seattle. For privacy, Uhura would go to a telcom center off-campus, where there were nclosed booths. After attending her Academy choir rehearsal and eating dinner in the cafeteria with Gaila, she changed into her civilian clothes and headed down the city streets. She was anxious to speak with Shaniqua (yes, her name is Shaniqua).

Uhura met Shaniqua, a girl from Michigan, at a summer performing arts camp when they both were fourteen. Uhura's maternal grandmother - Afua Owusu - paid for the camp after convincing her Baba – "It's time for Nyota to see other parts of the universe, besides Africa." An intergalactic trader, Afua wanted to send her only grandchild to a program on Earth colony Cestus II. However, her father – who doted on his motherless child – would agree to send her no further than a land called Manhattan on the east coast of the United States. Headquartered at a college, the camp housed the teenagers in dorm rooms.

Assigned as roommates, Shaniqua and Uhura's first meeting nearly started an international incident. When Uhura entered her dorm room, Shaniqua already seemed to have taken over much of the space with her possessions. She was in the process of taping a poster on the wall, when she saw Uhura. With little warning, the girl _squealed like a pig _as she wound her arms tightly about the African teenager. Shaniqua exclaimed, "A roommate from the Motherland! I have so much to ask you about our ancestors. My name is Shaniqua."

_Our ancestors_? Uhura thought as she extricated herself from the girl's grip. _With her sandy brown hair, green eyes and olive complexion, she has more in common with Europeans than she does with me._ Brazenly, "Was your education so inadequate that you need to bother me with ignorant questions?"

"Hey, I don't like that."

"Well, I don't like it when _your people_ assume . . ."

Hands on hips, "_Your people!_"

"You are mzunga."

"What is that suppose to mean?"

"You are white."

"White?!"

"Calm down . . . calm down. It is not an insult to know what you are."

"Look here . . . My family tree may include some European ancestry, _but I proudly identify myself as African American!_"

"Calling yourself something else does not change your essence, Shaquitta."

Moving up into Uhura's face, "Sha – ni – qua! My name is Shaniqua Paulette Washington!"

Not backing down. "What kind of ridiculous name is that? I bet you don't even know what it means."

"It's not ridiculous. That name happens to have a long history in my family dating all the way back to the 20th century. Now you apologize!"

Neither one of the girls remembers who shoved who first. However, it took four camp counselors to break up the fight. They were not sent home, since the Program Director said, "In my 34 years of running this camp, I have never had to send campers back to their parents on their first day and I am not going to start with you." As their punishment, they accompanied the rest of the campers to the 79th Broadway revival of _West Side Story. _But, instead of enjoying the show in the auditorium, they were made to sit in the lobby where they could only hear the musical from a VidScreen positioned out of their sight.

As they sat, their anger dissipated as they focused more on the music they heard from the show. Their feet began to move to the rhythms and when the "Jet's Song" played their voices joined in.

Uhura lamented, "This has got to be one of my favorite musicals of all-time." A happier memory. "For my 10th birthday, my grandmother bought me a copy of the 1961 film version and I was hooked. I must have played it over a hundred times."

"I saw a touring show version, first, in Detroit. My mother took me when I was 12 and I loved it so much I thought about running away from home and joining the company." Two beats. "Hey, what's your favorite scene in the play?"

"That's easy. It's when Tony first sees Maria at the dance at the gym."

"Oh, yeah . . . It's so romantic. The gym is crowded with people dancing around and they look across the floor and, suddenly, _they see only each other_."

The two teenagers look dreamily at a spot before themselves, as if the couple is standing there. "They walk across the floor and stand across from each other. They know they are meeting for the first time and, yet, they somehow know they've known each other all their lives." Two beats. "Maria wants Tony to touch her, but he is hesitant. She is _different_. He says to her, _You're thinking I'm somebody else._" Two beats. "Maria knows what he is, who he is – but she still desires his touch. And, then she says, _My hands are cold_." The two girls break the fantasy with their laughter, which causes an usher to scold them saying, "You must keep your voices down, there is a performance going on."

Shaniqua tries to quiet herself as she speaks, "My all-time favorite pick-up line! Maria was working it!"

"Maria knew what she had to do. And, when Tony takes her hands in his, he is lost to her _forever_ . . . and she knows it. Just the touch of her hands and they are one."

"So, you just left the envelope in your advisor's desk drawer?" Shaniqua asked Uhura through the telcom. "Didn't you say it was addressed to you?"

"Yes."

"And, it's from that Vulcan guy?"

"Yes, Mr. Spock."

"And, from the date you can see it is over two years old, right?"

"Right."

"So, Nyota . . . I don't understand why you called me. I thought it was something important or I would not have taken your call so close to show time."

"I called you for your advice on the matter."

"Since you didn't take the envelope when you had the chance, you either confront Greeley about it or you forget you ever saw it. Problem solved." Two beats. "Now, girlfriend, what's really on your mind?"

Leave it to Shaniqua to see through her pretense. A breath. _Why was it so difficult to give voice to what I am feeling? _Another breath. "I think about him . . . often."

"Somebody at the Academy?"

"Yes."

"Who is he?"

She does not respond.

Excitedly, "He's a married man! Nyota, you're having an affair with a married man?!"

"No, no, Shaniqua, of course not."

"All right, you had me worried for a moment. So, if he's not married, why the mystery?"

"We don't have a relationship. I mean . . .there's a professional relationship, but not any other kind of relationship."

"An officer? Is he one of the faculty members?"

"Yes."

"Has he ever given you any signs that he may be attracted to you?"

"I don't know." Two beats. "We are _different_."

Three beats. Realizing, "The Vulcan! You have feelings for the Vulcan!"

She nods her head.

"Oh, Nyota . . . how long have you known this?"

"Just now . . . or, maybe I've always known it . . . I don't know." Lowering her head, she speaks in low tones. "There have been a few times . . . when my roommate is out late and I am alone . . . I think of him . . . I touch myself." Tears drop from her eyes.

Attempting to comfort her, "There's nothing wrong with that."

"Sometimes, I participate in sex talk with the other cadets. I make references to things I really have only read about, but have rarely experienced." Two beats. She asserts, "My _feelings_ for a superior officer are inappropriate. It is strictly against the Academy's code of ethics."

"Nyota, your feelings are not inappropriate. And, finding a safe release for those feelings is not inappropriate."

Raising her head with a determined voice. "I want to be a Starfleet officer. I can't let these _desires_ get in my way."

"But, what do you need?"

Three beats. "Baba would not approve."

"This is not about your father."

"Such relations . . . are forbidden."

"You mean relations with an alien."

"I am my father's daughter."

"You are 25 years old. Isn't it time you made your own decisions about such matters?"

"Shaniqua, you and I could not be any closer if we were blood sisters, but there are some things you just don't understand about my family."

Three beats. "What do you need, Nyota?"

"It is irrelevant what I need. The fact is that in the spring he will be off on another tour of duty when his new ship is ready for voyage. I have another year at the Academy and it is unlikely we'll ever serve together. To get involved now would be pointless."

"_You are_ involved."

"But he isn't . . . " Two beats. " . . .and I could not bear to know he would not want to return the . . . affections."

"Nyota, can't you see what is happening? That's why you did not take the envelope or confront Dr. Greeley about it? You don't really want to know how he feels, do you?" Two beats. "After he is gone, you'd rather be safe in your fantasy than take a chance on knowing the truth. Nyota, girl, that is really messed up!"

Silence.

"Nyota . . .in a few minutes my show is going to begin. Listen to me . . . you can be intimate with a man without being physical. You can touch a man's heart without laying a hand on him." Two beats. "Maybe you already have and you just don't know it."

A voice behind Shaniqua. " Places!"

"Got to go. And, when you have a moment, check out 1 Corinthians 13: 4-7 for some guidance on love."

Acting surprised, "Who said anything about love?"

"You know, Nyota, sometimes you really are full of shit. I'm out."

Uhura did not get up from her seat immediately. She sat reflecting on the conversation . . . her disclosures . . . her desires . . . her fears . . . her wants . . . her confessions . . . her shame. _What do you need?_ She took out her PADD from her bag and looked up the scripture reference Shaniqua had provided her - "Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres."

After leaving T'Lau's apartment, Spock walked quickly through the city streets. Even with his speedy pace, it normally took him 45 minutes to get to campus from this point. Although he had sex with T'Lau, he _was not satisfied_. In fact, he found the disconnect between what was available and what he desired was affecting him much more than he cared to admit. The cool, misty night air acted to soothe his anger directed more at himself, than T'Lau. When having sex with her, he carefully shielded his mind so she would not be privy to his thoughts. This was relatively easy to do, since T'Lau never had the patience or inclination to study or practice the mind arts. However, he had been a fool to speak Cadet Uhura's name in such a vulnerable situation and he could not be sure it would not happen, again.

_And, what is this emotion I am now experiencing? . . . Is this guilt? . . . What could possibly be the catalyst? . . . Why should I feel any guilt concerning sexual relations with T'Lau? . . . It is not as if I am betraying Cadet Uhura in any way . . . She does not even know . . . I have never told her . . . I can't tell her_." Two beats._ In fact, after the way you stood mutely before her this morning, she probably hates you. _

And, that thought, suddenly saddened him.

Uhura moved swiftly toward campus. _Love is patient. Love is kind . . . __It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres._She could not figure out why Shaniqua had referred her to that scripture. _I'm certainly not in love with Mr. Spock. We don't even have that type of relationship. _Two beats._ Time will cure what ails you. According to reports, the building of the Enterprise is right on schedule. You'll be able to fully concentrate on obtaining your degree and Starfleet commission after he leaves with the ship in less than six months. _

And, that thought, suddenly saddened her.

At 8:13 PM, the streets were now bustling with people. Traffic and voices produced a cacophony that disquieted both Spock and Uhura.

Spock quickened his steps wanting to escape the din of the city. As he turned the corner to the main street leading to the Academy, he happened to glance across the street.

And, amidst all of the people, noise and traffic . . . _suddenly he saw her _. . . he saw_ only her._

Uhura quickened her steps wanting to escape the din of the city. As she turned the corner to the main street leading to the Academy, she happened to glance across the street.

And, amidst all of the people, noise and traffic . . . _suddenly she saw him _. . . she saw_ only him._

**Author's Note: **Part II will be up within the next seven days. Your comments are always welcome.


	8. Chapter 8 Tea Time

**Author's Note:** This chapter represents the second part of a two-part scene (see Chapter 7 for Part I). In this section, Spock and Uhura learn more about each other and deepen their relationship. As always, your comments – whether complimentary or constructive – are always welcome.

At 8:13 PM, the streets were now bustling with people. Among them were Spock and Uhura walking from opposite sides of the city. Traffic and voices produced a cacophony that disquieted both of them.

Spock quickened his steps wanting to escape the din of the city. As he turned the corner to the main street leading to the Academy, he happened to glance across the street.

And, amidst all of the people, noise and traffic . . . _suddenly he saw her _. . . he saw_ only her._

Uhura quickened her steps wanting to escape the din of the city. As she turned the corner to the main street leading to the Academy, she happened to glance across the street.

And, amidst all of the people, noise and traffic . . . _suddenly she saw him _. . . she saw_ only him._

Across the street from each other, they stopped . . . motionless . . . just looking at each other.

_She is different._

_He is different._

And then, he started walking toward _her_.

And then, she started walking toward _him._

They stopped only a few feet away from each other in the middle of the intersection.

He looked at her.

She looked at him.

Both waiting for the right words to come.

Two beats. The sound of a streetcar approaching. She feels his arm around her waist, guiding her to the safety of the sidewalk. For a moment, his arm felt comfortable there as if it were no stranger to her body. However, her torso suddenly became rigid and she stepped back away from him.

Uhura took a breath to calm herself. _Too soon . . . too soon. _She needed to hide behind her professional mask. _It will be safe. A suitable voice will be heard._

Although in civilian clothing, Uhura stood erect with her arms held straight beside her as if submitting herself for review. "Sir, this morning, I had no justification to speak to you the way I did. You gave me an opportunity to facilitate a class. An opportunity usually only afforded to fourth year students who have already passed their comprehensive exams. Yet, all I could do is speak to you as though a child displeased with a parent. In addition, I used language inappropriate for cadet speaking to her superior officer. I hope you can accept my apology, sir."

Despite her stiff posture, Spock's eyes looked upon her as a man would look upon a woman. His disposition was not one in which he was in any mood to play the military man . . . _not for long . . not tonight. _"Cadet Uhura, at ease."

"Yes, sir." She relaxed her stance.

Standing before her. "It is I who must apologize to you. You asked me to assess your performance as the seminar facilitator and I did not respond. While your tone of voice and some choice of words were, indeed,_ improper_ - as a faculty member I failed to meet a reasonable expectation to provide feedback on a given assignment. Please accept my apology."

Surprised, but relieved. "Apology accepted, sir."

"Thank you, cadet."

"Sir?"

"Yes, Cadet Uhura."

"Under the circumstances, perhaps, it would now be an opportune time for your assessment of my performance from this morning's class."

"That's an odd request considering your exit line this morning was . . . " he paused for emphasis, ". . . _your opinion just doesn't matter to me_."

A breath. "Sir, I'm trying to give _you_ a chance to fulfill your acknowledged faculty obligation."

"Do you enjoy tea, Cadet Uhura?"

"Sir, you're evading."

"In the office, I have seen you at your workstation with quite dismal looking teabags."

"It is what I can afford, sir."

"If we overlook the fact that no beverages of any kind are suppose to be present at the workstation, . . "Uhura tries desperately not to roll her eyes_. _He continued, "one wonders why you even bother to go through the trouble of submerging these bags in liquid. I am sure they are more successful in coloring the water than producing any flavor worth your intake."

Unable to suppress her irritation. "I suppose you're correct in your analysis, sir. It is hardly worth the energy I expend on the effort."

"Then, we are in agreement."

"Agreement about what, sir?"

"You need some new supplies. This way, Cadet Uhura." He points ahead and begins to walk. "There's a fine teahouse just a block from here. We'll be able to identify the right type suitable to your tastes." Two beats. "On second thought, it may be counterproductive if we relied on your less sophisticated palate. I will choose for you."

Trying to keep up with his long strides, as well as, keep her cool, "Sir, I appreciate your concern, but I am on such a tight budget that I can hardly afford to purchase any high end teas."

"Oh, the products sold there are quite affordable and once you have sampled _real tea_, you will never be able to use those inferior products, again."

"But what if someone from the Academy saw us, sir? Dressed in our civilian clothes and meeting off-campus, one might get the wrong impression."

"Since tea tends not to be the beverage of choice with Academy personnel, very few from campus ever frequent this establishment. That certainly should not be a revelation to you, Cadet Uhura."

Indignant. "Sir?"

Stopping in front of a café. "Here we are."

Reading, "The House of Diarmuid?

"Yes, this is the place."

"Sounds like an Irish name, sir." Skeptical. "When I think of beverages made noteworthy by the Irish, tea is not the first that comes to mind."

Opening the door. "Do I detect a cultural bias in your statement?"

"Not so much of a bias as it is a fact, sir."

They enter the small restaurant crammed with fifteen café-style tables. Plants, artwork, and earth tones create a welcoming, hospitable atmosphere in sharp contrast to the sterile environment of the Academy. Almost all the chairs seemed filled with patrons, who drank or sipped their beverages from a variety of different sized vessels – cups, mugs, glasses, and bowls. Among the tables stood a gray-haired man holding an empty tray to his side. He appeared involved in an animated, but friendly conversation with several of the customers. "Looks like we might have to try this place another night, sir."

"Patience, Cadet Uhura." Raising his voice slightly. "Diarmuid."

The gray-haired man who she had assumed to be the waiter turned around, his eyes opening wider in recognition. "Spock!" Walking over to them and exclaiming almost loud enough to embarrass. "I see you brought a woman with you this time and a looker at that."

"Cadet Uhura, this is Diarmuid. He was a crewman on my first deep space tour of duty."

"A pleasure to meet you, sir." She offers her hand and he surprises her by pulling her closer to him as Spock looks on warily.

"Your first time here, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir."

"I know, because I certainly would have remembered you – especially if _this one_ brought you in the door. So, I suppose I better apprise you of the house rules. Number One - I don't go for all that formal military talk. Yes, sir . . . No, sir . . . None of that kind of talk is allowed in here."

"I'm Mr. Spock's Course Assistant, sir. It would not be proper if . . . "

Cutting her off. "I don't give no mind to how you behave out there. But, in the House of Diarmuid, it's not permitted. Do you get my meaning?"

"Yes, sir . . .. I mean . . I understand, sir. . . I'm sorry, sir . . . "

"It's all right. I know how they get you all brainwashed. Makes you lose all sense of who you are. But, don't you worry yourself. We've got a ten step process to break you of that sinful practice. Number One – do not hang around with Mr. Protocol, there."

"To be honest, it was not my idea to even come in here. Mr. Spock . . . "

"There you go, again. Of course, my friend set a poor example by even introducing you as _Cadet Uhura_."

Spock interjected, "That is her name."

"Listen to me very carefully. My name is Diarmuid . . . " Pointing at patrons, "Hector, Colleen, Sylvia, Sun, Padma and so on and so on. We don't use last names here." Bringing his attention back to Uhura and looking directly into her eyes. "So, what is yourname, girl?"

Spock finally had enough of his friend's pathetic flirtatious behavior. Although usually able to handle herself in such situations, Uhura was relieved when Spock stepped in between them.

Firmly. "We require a table and a tea sampler."

Two beats. Then, Diarmuid scans the room, "What about that table in the corner?"

"That will be sufficient."

"Be there in a moment with your sampler."

The two seat themselves at the corner table. "Sir, what position did . . ."

Interrupting. "Why do you continue to break the Number 1 House Rule?"

"Mr. Spock!"

Looking at her intently, "For one night, Ms. Uhura, it would please me for you to drop the formalities and call me, Spock."

Two beats. Then, for the first time since she had known him, she noticed what appeared to be amusement in his eyes. Intrigued, "All right, I can do as you wish if I can pretend I am not a cadet and you are not my superior officer . . . Is that permissible? If so, then I will feel free to speak my mind."

"I was not aware you previously operated under such a constraint. I fear if I now consent to allow you the freedom to speak your mind, I would hardly survive the onslaught."

She laughed and the happy sound pleased him.

He continued, "All right. I will take the risk. Speak what you will. Tonight, one is not superior to the other in rank, class, intellect, wit, physical prowess, speech . . ."

Amused, she feigned surprise, "Mr. Spock!"

"Spock, for tonight . . . just call me Spock."

"All right . . .Spock." _So, score one for you, but I can also play. _"What about my name? I don't think you've ever spoken it before."

Silence. _Considering the circumstances under which I have actually said it, it would be wise not to disturb that assumption with the truth._

"Why don't you say it, now?" She leaned forward and said softly. "Go ahead and break it in."

Although imperceptible to her, Spock took a sharp intake of breath in an attempt to control his arousal. _She has no idea what she is doing to me . . . or does she? One point for Nyota. _For a moment, he focused on the medallion held by a chain that dangled from her neck. Though unfamiliar to him, directing his attention on the painted symbol of the medallion helped to quiet his carnal desires . . . at least, for the moment.

She noticed his eyes now looking downward below her face. _He better not be looking where I think he is looking . . . not that there is really much to see. _"May I help you?"

Uncharacteristically caught off-guard, "Help me with what?"

"When carrying on a conversation, it is customary to look directly at the person's face with which you are having the exchange. I'm a bit confused why you, just a moment ago, were instead staring at my _upper torso_."

Two beats. "Actually, my attention was on your medallion. More specifically, the embedded symbol. Is it an emblem of some kind or is it simply a design for aesthetic purposes?"

"It is a Gye Nymane . . . an Adinkra emblem of the Ghanaian people of West Africa. My late mother was Ghanaian. I honor her and my beliefs by wearing it."

"The meaning of this symbol?"

"It's sometimes difficult to translate, but in essence it is symbolic of the supremacy of God. Wearing it . . . keeps me grounded. It reminds me _whose I am_."

"Then, it is a religious object."

"It is."

"If I were not pretending not to be your superior officer, I would remind you that such articles are strictly prohibited when wearing one's uniform - even if worn underneath one's clothing."

"If I were not pretending not to be a _lowly_ cadet for _only one evening, _I would feel free to tell you exactly where you could put your reminder."

Two beats. "I believe you have made your point . . . Nyota." He chose to say her name as impassively as possible. She would not get the upper hand here . . . if he could help it.

Spock's strategy resulted in its desired effect as Uhura's face conveyed the disappointment she felt at his flat pronunciation of her name. _But, Nyota, what did you really expect? Settle down, girl . . . settle down and change the subject. _"So, on what ship did you and Diarmuid serve together?"

"Ten years ago on the Enterprise."

"You mean the model that's been decommissioned?"

Two beats. Reflecting, "Yes. Although technologically outdated, she was a good ship with a fine crew."

His tone surprised her. Never before had she heard him give voice to sentimentality. "I believe in one of our classes Captain Pike said it was his first command of a Constellation-class ship. What position did you serve?"

"Science officer."

"And Diarmuid?"

"On the Enterprise, Diarmuid's appointment was as Warrant Officer – assigned to the Medical Corps."

"What in the hell are the two of you doing?" Diarmuid sets down a tray filled with ceramic cups, one pot and tins of tea. "Talking shop is a violation of House Rule #2."

Uhura spoke up. "I'm sorry, it was my fault. I was curious about how the two of you became friends, so we began to talk about your tour of duty on the Enterprise."

Turning to Spock, "I know you didn't tell her the two of us were friends on the Enterprise."

Spock opened one of the tins. He placed two teaspoons of loose tea inside the teapot as he spoke. "In her defense, the assumption was probably made based on knowledge of our present relationship. Earlier, you did call me _friend_, although that may have been a slip of the tongue."

Diarmuid exclaimed, "What was I thinking?!"

Not sure if they were serious, she admitted, "I seem to be a bit in the dark."

"Then I better tell the story." Diarmuid readily offered. To Uhura, "I've never caught a Vulcan in a lie, but they are masters at the art of omission."

"Yet, when Diarmuid speaks, the hearer should beware." Spock retorted, "He never lets truth get in the way of a good story."

"And what's wrong with that?" Diarmuid laughs.

Now anxious to hear about the account, Uhura tried to refocus the banter. "In our officer's handbook, I don't recall reading about a Warrant Officer assignment to the Medical Corps."

"That's because it no longer exists." Diarmuid pulled up a chair and directed his comments to Uhura, despite Spock's continual interjections.

Spock stated dryly, "The position was designed specifically to maintain decontamination stations for crew returning from planets in which insufficient data existed to ensure the safety of ship personnel."

Coming to mind, "Yes . . . now, I remember this from my military history class." Uhura said, "Crew returning to the ship had to wash with a gel-like substance to remove, neutralize or eradicate any potentially harmful matter."

"Well, I lived that history." Diarmuid informed her. "For certification in the field, one had to undergo additional training."

Spock added, "Three four-hour modules."

"I was a specialist." Diarmuid contended, "One of the best in my field."

"The crew always enjoyed his jokes, although I failed to find the humor in them."

"After it was too late, I found out that a sense of humor was not a quality required for Spock to do his dirty work. I knew I was done when I overheard one of the midshipmen refer to me as Petty Officer Dunsel ."

"As Science Officer, one of my tasks was to undertake an efficiency study of Enterprise operations with the objective being to identify strategies that would lead to running the ship more effectively at a lower cost."

"I'm a cadet, but I don't recall hearing the term, Dunsel?"

Diarmuid uttered sarcastically, "I'm surprised, Spock, officer training certainly isn't what it used to be."

"It's a derogatory term used to refer to a part which has outlived its useful purpose."

"This Vulcan eliminated my job."

"A biofilter used in conjunction with the transporter could accomplish the task much more efficiently and accurately. The system could also warn when an anomaly was present that could not be effectively treated through this mechanism. No such safeguard existed under the previous operation."

"Twenty-seven years of service to the Federation and, suddenly, I'm out in the cold. That is me and 34 other crew members who faced a similar fate when they became – what did you call them, Spock – _non-essential personnel?_"

"All affected parties were offered retraining or reassignment."

"On our ship, they let the Vulcan break the news to us. Of course, the brass knew full well what they were doing. Now our Number One could be a cold bitch, but they knew no one else but Spock would be comfortable cutting our legs out from under us and still be able to sleep at night."

To Spock, "Captain Pike went along with this?"

"Captain Pike had no previously knowledge of these commands, since my orders were from a higher authority. If he could have transferred me to another ship, he would have done so."

"Who in their right mind was going to take the Vulcan after what he had done? The changes were not only made on the Enterprise, but ultimately where possible throughout the fleet."

"I do not regret the study and the resulting changes were only logical."

"The Federation saves millions of credits and - over Captain Pike's objections - Spock gets a promotion to Lieutenant Commander assigned as First Officer on the Enterprise. A bloody coup for Spock."

"It took me two years, three months and five days to regain the Captain's trust." Uhura sensed a genuine expression of regret in Spock's voice over the time lost.

"So, no, Uhura, I would hardly say Spock and I were friends back then. There was certainly no one I hated more than this green-blooded bastard!"

Although his demeanor remained cool, Spock noticed Uhura's body stiffen as if readying herself for a fight. As if oblivious to the Irishman's previous line, Spock said, "Diarmuid, I believe we'll use the French Press for the green tea."

"I haven't finished the story."

"If we wait until you have completed your narrative, our water will no longer be at the optimum temperature and I am certain the other customers may begin to feel neglected."

"All right, _boss_." He leaves them as Spock pours the steeped tea.

Still agitated, "I don't see how you can just sit there and let him insult you like that."

"I don't take the term _boss_ to be an insult."

"You know, the other term – the one about being a green-blooded . . ."

"Bastard." As though a matter of fact, "That epithet was used so often during my years at the Academy and my first tour of duty that I sometimes began to think it was actually part of my name." No response. "I believe that was a joke."

"There are some things that aren't funny to me."

"Pick up your cup."

"I don't think I'm really in the mood to drink tea."

"The objective is not to simply drink the tea. Instead, you must learn to savor it." Firmly, "Pick up your cup."

His eyes bear down on her and she cannot refuse him. Uhura places her hand around it to lift it, but the container feels much too warm to pick up. "It's too hot."

"It will not cause you harm. Pick up your cup."

Two beats. She placed her hand around the perimeter. Two beats. She grasped it, biting her lip as she felt the heat. She lifted the cup. A sharp intake of breath as the warmth seems to flow through her body. _This is just a cup of tea. Why am I feeling . . ._

"Let the aroma enter your body." Softly. "Just breathe normally."

When the aroma reached her nose, it caused her nostrils to widen welcoming the scent. As it entered her body, it seemed to heighten her other senses. She was now very much aware of the fragrance of the tea . . . the beating of her heart . . . the sensuous feel of her skin against her clothing. _What is he doing to me?_

"Taste."

Without hesitation she brought the cup to her lips and allowed some of the hot liquid to come into her mouth. The heat jolted her for a moment, but she closed her eyes and waited. _Love is patient._ And slowly, she began to savor its delicate flavor . . . a hint of sweetness . . . a seemly malty taste. She held it there in her mouth . . . one . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five beats . . . and then she let it enter her throat . . . the sensation moving through her entire body. _Love is kind._

His eyes on her . . . her rich brown skin . . .

His eyes on her . . . her wide nose with the short bridge and rounded tip . . .

His eyes on her . . . her fleshy, curvy lips . . .

His eyes on her . . . her face glowing as if in a state of exaltation . . .

_She speaks, but there are no words . . ._

_A feeling of intimacy, but our bodies do not meet . . . _

_She touches my spirit, but . . ._

She gasped . . .eyes now open . . . she set down the cup . . . _His eyes are on me . _. . _How long had I . . . ? _She nervously fingered her medallion.

When she could speak, she found herself giving voice to the most obvious question, "What type of tea was that?"

"White tea. One of the four major types of teas processed from the plant species camellia sinensis."

Diarmuid returned with a French press. "What is going on, here? Boring this young lady to tears, are you? Have you no idea how to talk to a woman?"

Uhura admitted, "I am the one who asked him about the tea."

"Then, what is in heavens name is wrong with _you_?" Spock's glare left him with no doubt of whether his presence was welcome." Diarmuid set down the appliance on the table. "Here's your French press." He starts to leave, but Uhura called him back.

"Diarmuid, I would like the check, please." To Spock. "I really should be going. I have a busy day tomorrow and I didn't plan on being out later than 10."

Spock remained silent, but Diarmuid would not do the same. "Then what's your problem? It's only a wee past nine."

"I wanted to be _in_ my dorm room by 10."

"But, even Cinderella got to stay out until midnight."

Digging in her bag, she retrieves her OneCard. Growing annoyed, "Here you go. I should have enough credits left for this month to cover the bill."

"Put it away, girl, your card is no good here. Not when you're with him. Hope to see you, again – with or without the Vulcan.' To Spock. "See you later, boss." He quickly clears the table and leaves.

Still irritated, she asks sharply, "Why wouldn't he accept my OneCard? What does it have to do with you?"

"Diarmuid knows my guests never pay."

"And, why is that?"

"I'm the owner of this establishment."

With Uhura setting a hurried pace, it had only taken them only17 minutes to reach the Academy grounds from the teahouse. She stayed focused on her destination, knowing he was having no trouble keeping up with her rate of speed. However, he had grown weary of their wordless trek. "Nyota."

He spoke her name much differently than he had at the teahouse. The tone assumed a note of familiarity she had not heard before. Still, she would not slow her movement. "We're on the Academy grounds, sir. We need not pretend, anymore."

"I am well aware of my location." Insistent, "Nyota, I am requesting you stop your forward progression."

She could see her dormitory ahead of her, but Uhura found herself obeying his request.

"There is a seating unit 4.3 meters to the southwest of where you are standing. Due to its juxtaposition in relation to the walkway, we could have some measure of privacy."

She goes to the bench and sits. He then sits .5 meter to the right of her.

Silence. Uhura waited for him to question her . . . _Why had she wanted to leave the teahouse so soon? . . . _She had no answer . . . at least, not one she wanted to admit . . . not even to herself. Silence.

Uhura looked to her right and she saw him . . . his back resting against the bench . . . relaxed . . . hands on his lap . . . looking out before him.

A breath . . . she felt her back resting against the bench . . . relaxed . . . . hands on her lap . . . looking out before her. _I like this . . . I like this very much . . . All right . . . another point for you, Spock._

And the silence turned to quiet . . . peaceful . . . calming.

A breath.

The quiet nurtured a closeness . . . an _ease_ between them that served to dissolve the tensions which followed them from the teahouse.

Time passed.

Gently, "Nyota . . . " He was now standing beside her. "It is 9:47. We have just enough time to get you to your living quarters before your coach turns into a pumpkin and your coachman reverts back to a mouse. I suppose that latter character would be me and would prefer you not see me in such a vulnerable position."

A smile comes to her lips as she rose from the bench. They began the walk to the dormitory at a much more comfortable pace. "How do you know the story of Cinderella? Are there similar tales on Vulcan?"

"Not at all. When I was a child, my mother thought it important to my Terran cultural literacy to impart the legends and folktales of her human European ancestors."

"Did you have a favorite story?"

"The word, favorite, usually connotes a preference that is pleasing. I cannot say there was one that met that criterion. As a child, they tended to confuse, rather than provide a source of comfort or instruction."

"I know exactly what you mean. I was first introduced to those stories as an undergraduate in a World Mythology course. It seemed the Western tales and even their classic literature were often at odds with ethical teachings. Stories like _Jack and the Beanstalk _and ___Les Misérables_ appeared only to justify theft or someone else's property." They arrive at Uhura's dormitory. "However, within my culture the protagonists in both cases could have avoided their moral dilemmas, if they instead would have relied on the people of their villages to assist them in their time of need."

Reflecting, "Vulcans definitely would not have resorted to larceny. However, under similar circumstances my people would have decided the most honorable course of action would have been to allow themselves to starve to death."

"Are there any happy endings in Vulcan mythology?"

"While Vulcans may experience pleasure, enjoyment or, even, joy – the quest for the obtainment of happiness is irrelevant in our culture."

Two beats. "Spock, have you ever experienced happiness?"

Two beats. "When I was a cadet at the Academy, there was a woman . . . a human woman. Being with her was the first time I can truly say I was happy."

It was not the answer Uhura expected to hear and her sudden sullen expression made no secret to Spock that she was not pleased.

_Why is she reacting in this manner? Did she not ask me if I ever experienced happiness? Why did her face sour so when I spoke the truth? Such a complicated woman._

_Why didn't his first memory of happiness feature an anecdote about his parents or some childhood friend? But, instead he said . . . there was a woman. At this moment, I certainly would have rather he'd chosen to exercise the Vulcan art of omission, than their penchant for honesty . . . That man! _

And, then . . . Uhura became aware of her medallion . . . _so inexplicably warm against my skin_. Three beats. _You know you are as silly as those fairy tales if you thought he was just waiting around for you . . . __Miss Sunshine__._ And the thought caused her to laugh.

Her reaction caused him to raise an eyebrow. "Did I say something that was humorous?"

She reached into her bag to retrieve her keycard. "No, it was not you." Finding the card, she looked to him. "My people have a saying about happiness. According to the proverb, _Happiness requires something to do, something to love and something to hope for_. Although this state of being is thought to be irrelevant in your culture, I wish you all the happiness that life can bring you." And, she smiled . . . that warm radiant smile that could not help, but _touch him_. "I suppose I should be getting inside before my ball gown turns into rags." Swiping her card. "Goodnight, _Mr. Spock."_ And, before he could find his tongue, she disappeared into the building.

As he strolled across campus to his apartment, he felt the corners of his mouth rise up in what could be described as a smile. _Nyota . . . you deserve bonus points for that performance._

**Author's Note:** The next chapter - a flashback, entitled " C a d e t J o s e p h M i c h a e l M o r e t t i " - t a c k l e s s o m e d i f f i c u l t i s s u e s , w h i l e f u r t h e r d e v e l o p i n g t h e c h a r a c t e r s .


	9. Chapter 9 Cadet Joseph Michael Moretti

**Author's Note: **The next four chapters deal with serious issues of which I have personal experience. If you stay with it, you'll find both pathos and humor – which seeks to both enlighten and entertain. While further developing the characters, my intent is to treat the subjects with sensitivity. However, please be warned, while they are learning, they don't always speak in a PC way. In Chapter 9, you are introduced to another new, but troubled character – Cadet Joseph Michael Moretti. I'm definitely taking a risk by including these topics, but I hope it will add to the rich tapestry of life I have sought to create for the _Star Trek_ universe. As always, your comments are welcome.

Coming inside her dorm after saying good night to Spock, Uhura felt good . . . she felt _damn good _as she walked to her room. Being with him, meeting Diarmuid, _savoring_ the tea together, sharing a quiet moment and . . . _Wait a moment . . . I don't actually recall him ever having any of the tea . . . he just watched me . . . now, that's a little kinky. _Her laughter as she entered the dorm room turned to surprise as she found Kirk and Gaila huddled around the computer screen at a desk.

Still turned toward the computer screen, "Hello, roomie."

"I don't know what surprises me more . . . Gaila actually _in_ our dorm room before me or Kirk in a woman's dorm room after curfew." He turned to her in anticipation of her a punch line. "No, wait . . . it would only have been a surprise if Kirk _wasn't_ _breaking curfew_." She sets her bag down on top of her dresser.

"I'm crazy about you, too, Pippi."

"Pippi? Pippi Uhura? Come on, James . . ." she moves to him, "that's really quite . . . " she playfully slides her finger down his nose, " . . . uninspired." Still on a high from her evening, she touched Kirk in a way she would never do with Spock.

Kirk did not question the reason for her mood. He would ride this wave as long as possible. "Well, if you're looking for another use of that finger, I've got an itch . . ."

"Look you two," Gaila turned to them in exasperation, "I'm really frackin' tired of that lame name game you two have been playing for the _past three years._ And your _tired_ sex talk makes me want to take a vow of celibacy. So, give it a rest!" Silence. Three beats. Then, the silence is finally broken by their laughter.

"All right . . . All right." As Uhura attempted to regain her composure, "Sr. Gaila may stay, but James T. Kirk it's time to go." Gaila turned back to the computer.

Showing no signs of moving, he teases her. "You weren't so eager to throw me out the other night."

"That's because you fed me when I was so very, very hungry. Feed me and I'll put up with just about anything . . . _even you._"

"Is that right, Consuela?"

On edge, Gaila tried not to raise her voice, "I'm warning you two."

Kirk rises, "All right, I better go for Gaila's sake." He moves toward the door, while Uhura watches him warily. Then, Kirk swiftly turns back around. "However, before I do, Uhura I want you to see some pictures I brought over on the data crystal."

Gaila offered, "Baby pictures."

Uhura quipped, "I didn't even know the two of you were expecting."

Gaila quickly arose from her seat, "I believe that's my cue for a really long shower." She headed for the bathroom.

Speaking to Uhura, he told her, "They're pictures of Moretti's baby daughter."

Two beats. "Moretti's wife gave birth? And, it's a girl?" She sat down at the computer and eagerly began to scroll through the images.

Kirk joined her. "There must be over a hundred photos."

"Oh, James . . . she's lovely!" Three beats. "What's her name?"

Proudly, "Jimena Leona Uhura Moretti."

"Oh, my . . . poor baby. Hello, Jimena Leona Uhura Moretti. Sorry, about the name. But, you are beautiful . . . so very beautiful."

Two years ago when they were first year students, Cadet Joseph Michael Moretti was in trouble.

A student in his military history course, Captain Pike could sense Moretti was in trouble. Not that he behaved inappropriately or proved to be a distraction. He just seemed to be existing . . . taking up space . . . blending into the back of the classroom. He was just there . . . just there.

Reviewing his record, Pike noted Moretti had started off as an average student. A few B's, but mostly C's. However, he excelled in military training – phaser weaponry, hand to hand combat, and wilderness survival skills being his specialties. Until reading his file, Pike had not realized Moretti had been married for three years and had one child . . . _A son born two years ago . . . Strange, although there was not mention of the couple being separated or divorced, Moretti's wife and son still lived on cadet's home planet, Earth Colony 419_. _Why didn't they live together in family housing? _

Moretti had never been an out-going man. He was never one to make things happen for it was enough to allow life to happen to him. However, in recent months, he seemed to be numb to even this stimulus. Pike could tell . . . Moretti was in trouble. One day, he asked the cadet to meet with him in his office.

"Cadet Moretti, are you aware you are failing my course?"

"Yes, sir."

"Are you also aware midterm scores indicate failing marks in all of your courses?"

"Yes, sir."

"Is there an explanation for the decline in your performance?"

"None that I can think of, sir."

"Do you understand that if your performance remains unchanged by the end of the semester, you could be released from service?"

Impassively. "Yes, sir, I am aware of the consequences."

Trying to find a way past the deadpan exterior, "Then, Cadet, why wait for the inevitable? Why not leave the Academy now and stop wasting our time and resources?"

His eyes cast downward. Three beats. Then he looked back to Pike, "I'm sorry, sir. I did not mean to seem indifferent. The Academy . . . the Academy was the one thing that was going right in my life."

"Then, _what is_ not going right?"

Three beats. "It's personal, sir."

"Little is personal in Starfleet, especially, when it starts affecting your future as an officer."

"I understand, sir."

Two beats. "How's the family?"

"Fine, sir."

Noting a tenseness in Moretti's voice, "Your son's a toddler now, must be quite a handful for your wife. My understanding is they get into everything at that age."

"My wife doesn't have to worry about that, sir. The boy has Heidegger Syndrome. He does not do much, but just lie in his bed."

Compassionately, "I'm sorry. I did not know."

With an edge. "That's the problem, nobody knew. After we found out my wife, Katarina, was pregnant, we went through genetic testing. All results were within a normal range. Throughout the pregnancy, my wife had regular checkups and the doctor always told her . . . _I wish all my patients were as healthy as you_. As we had planned, I was in the delivery room when she gave birth. You should have seen the nurses marveling over the fact the boy did not cry. One of them even said, _I can tell he's going to be a good baby._" Bitterly, "He's _good_, all right. He lays around like a vegetable . . . he's no bother at all."

"I understand the mental capacity is not affected by the condition. The prognosis for these children is much better than it was thirty years ago when Heidegger Syndrome was first identified."

"I'll tell you what the prognosis is, Captain. Surgeries and physical therapy for the rest of his life. Next month they will fit him with a voice box . . . some sort of mechanism doctors will connect to his brain. Like a ventriloquist, he'll learn to speak through this gadget, but his mouth won't move. Then, when he's five, they'll cut off those _useless_ limbs. He'll be fitted with bionic devices, which will have to be resized as he grows. After they finish cutting him up, what's going to left?! What's going to be left of him?!" As tears fall from his face, Pike places a hand on his shoulder. For a moment, Moretti finds comfort in his touch.

"As parents, we worry about our children. We want everything to be right for them. And when it's not right, it tears us up inside." Two beats. "I don't know all of what you are going through, but you're not alone. Remember . . . you're not alone."

Trying to regain his composure, Moretti withdraws from Pike and wipes his face with his hand. "Thank you, sir."

"Children are stronger than we think. In the years to come, I'm sure Joe Jr. will find ways to surprise you."

"Sir, we don't call him Joe, Jr."

"In your file, I thought I read your son's name is Joseph Michael Moretti, Jr."

"We named him before we knew there was a problem. My wife has taken to calling him, Fedya."

"Fedya? I'm not familiar with that name."

"It's Russian . . . my wife's ancestors were Russian. She told me it means _gift from God_. If there was a God, he obviously had a warped sense of humor."

Taken aback by Moretti cool tone, Pike knew it would be futile to continue the discussion. With so little time left in the semester, it may have been too late to change Moretti's fate at the Academy. Still, Pike was deeply concerned for the young man. He knew Moretti was in trouble.

"Cadet Moretti, you are to report to the Medical Treatment Facility in one hour for a full exam."

"But, sir, I have already taken my annual for this year."

"That is an order, Cadet. I will make the arrangements, so they will be expecting you."

"But sir, I'm scheduled for phaser rifle training at that time."

"Cadet Moretti, this appointment takes precedence over anything else. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Dismissed."

The last place where he wanted to be stuck that afternoon was at MTF. However, he reasoned, _If I just play the game, I'll be out of there in no time. _

On duty that day, Dr. Leonard "Bones" McCoy knew an order for a full medical exam was code for a suspected "head case." Despite his credentials – like all first year Medical Corps nurses and doctors – one of his assignments at MTF was to serve as an intake specialist. With Moretti, the doctor's task was to provide the initial diagnosis of the cadet's mental state and refer him, if necessary, to the appropriate department for treatment.

In a small office, Moretti waited patiently in a chair, while McCoy sat on the edge of a desk as he reviewed the results of his physical and hastily completed patient's questionnaire. The cadet could not figure out what was taking the doctor so long to release him.

"So, what's the verdict, doc. Did I pass?"

"I'm not sure. There are two things that are bothering me. I'm trying to figure out how you've nearly lost 9 kilos (about 20 lbs), since you last were here only about six weeks ago.'

"Maybe you doctors don't have to eat at the cafeteria. Having to eat there on a regular basis is enough to make any man lose his appetite."

"But on your questionnaire you did not indicate you are experiencing a loss of appetite." Coming around to him with the I-Tablet. "See here, question #5. In the last 30 days, have you experienced a loss of appetite? You checked the box next to the response, Not at All." Two beats. "So, which is it? You've experienced a loss or appetite or you didn't?"

Caught. Two beats. "So, what do I have to do to get out of here?"

McCoy resets the form erasing Moretti's previous responses. "Take the survey, again." Handing him the tablet. "And actually _read_ each of the questions this time."

Moretti scanned the survey.

_In the last 30 days, have you experienced:_

_A feeling of sadness_

_A feeling of anxiety and worry_

_Unexplained aches and pain_

_A sense you are unable or afraid to get things done_

_A loss of appetite_

_A feeling of anger or irritability_

_An inability to concentrate_

_Too much or too little sleep_

_A sense you are no longer in control of your life_

_Feelings of worthlessness or guilt_

_A sense of hopelessness_

_Thoughts of suicide_

In response to these questions, he could choose one of the following answers: 1) Not at All; 2) Occasionally; 3) Sometimes; 4) Often; or, 5) All the Time. But, Moretti knew that if he were to be truthful, the answer to most of the questions would be "Often" or "All the Time." _How could I expect to remain in the Academy if I told them how I really feel?_

After the Cadet completed the survey, McCoy examined his responses. He had indicated that he _sometimes_ experienced a loss of appetite and _occasionally_ experienced too much or too little sleep. For all other questions, he chose the response, _Not at All._ Although the doctor noted the Cadet appeared to carefully deliberate on each question before marking his response, McCoy still viewed the survey with a skeptical eye. He had a gut feeling that all was not well.

"So, doc, how did I do, this time? Am I free to leave?"

Writing notes on the I-Tablet, "You're free to leave, but on your way out I need for you to set up an appointment to speak with one of our counselors."

Rising, "With my schedule, I probably won't have time to come back until next week."

"I didn't ask you _when_ you had the time. You'll set the appointment for tomorrow."

Quick to anger, "Tomorrow! Have you looked at my schedule? Between classes, military training modules, and studying – just when do I have time for someone to go poking around in my head?!"

Two beats. McCoy looked at him sternly. "I'm not your enemy, Cadet. I'm trying to help you." A softer tone. "Go on, now, and make your appointment."

Moretti knew he had to improve his performance the next day or he would have little to look forward to than numerous counseling sessions that would be _a frackin' waste of my time . . . just like they were on my home planet. _

It was easy to find a cadet who could sell him the right drug to ensure a good night's sleep. Cadet Donavan kept a well stocked, but illegal pharmacy. Unlike others who found their meager stipend exhausted well before the monthly pay day, Donovan found Academy life to be highly profitable.

With his purchase and a good night's sleep, Moretti was determined not to make the same mistakes he made with McCoy. _I'll be well-rested, pleasant and have all the right answers._ He could not afford to be washed out of the Academy. He could not go back home and be with _them_.

If Moretti had only known the reality of the Academy's mental health care system, he would not have needed to put so much thought into his strategy. And, if McCoy had not been relatively new to the Medical Corps, he would have prescribed a different route for the cadet's treatment.

In a cost cutting move, Starfleet privatized the counselor positions. Although they had the appropriate educational background – usually a master's degree in social work or psychology - they were usually recent graduates or, at best, only had a few years of experience. Overworked with a heavy caseload, the counselors' main task became to serve as gatekeepers to higher cost mental health care.

Although it was 4:43 PM, Rebecca Stein hurried to straighten her desk and log off her computer to head out the door. She reasoned she had worked through her afternoon break, so why couldn't she leave early? Her supervisor would be at a meeting across campus until 6 PM, so she would not even know she had left a few minutes early. Just as she grabbed her purse and started to leave, McCoy filled the doorway.

"Going somewhere?"

"Just to get a drink of water."

"I didn't know security was so lax in the building that you feel the need to take your purse with you."

"May I help you with something, . . ." Seeing his name badge on his chest, "Dr. McCoy?" Although not her supervisor, she knew she had to deal with him. She had not previously met McCoy, but heard he was a physician, as well as, an experienced psychiatrist. She could not afford to cross him.

"If your name is Rebecca Stein, you can."

"Yes, I'm Rebecca."

"I understand you were assigned to counsel Cadet Joseph Moretti."

She went back to her desk and logged back on to her computer._ Does he really expect me to remember everyone who walked through that door?_

"He had an appointment with you this afternoon."

Bringing up the record, "Yes . . . right. Moretti." Looking at her notes. "Arrived promptly, at the scheduled 1:45 PM time. I read his responses to the mental health survey, as well as, your intake notes. After he arrived we chatted, for a while."

"You _chatted_?"

"He answered all of the standard questions within normal parameters of any first year student faced with the daily rigors of the Academy."

"Normal parameters . . ." noting her youth, ". . . based on your many years of experience dealing with such cases?"

"I saw no need for further treatment."

"How long did it take for you to come to that decision?"

Two beats. "He was out by 2:03 PM."

"18 minutes?! You had a counseling session with him for an entire 18 minutes?! Did you even give him a chance to sit down?!"

"Don't you raise your voice to me!" She closes the door and turns to confront him. "You don't know what kind of pressure we are under. There are six mental health counselors available for nearly 5,000 cadets, campus staff and faculty, as well as, their families. You and the other intake specialists send us referrals without any regard for our ability to handle all of these cases. It's not fair. It simply is not fair!"

"I thought the patients were our priority, Ms. Stein."

"Patients like Cadet Moretti? So he sometimes doesn't get enough sleep and lost a little weight. What's wrong with that? I wish I could lose a few kilos, myself. Please doctor, do us all a favor. The next time you are assigned to intake, before you write your next referral make sure he has some _real problems_." The words were out of her mouth, before she could take them back. Suddenly, she regretted her admission, but it was too late.

"Get out of my way, Ms. Stein."

"Dr. McCoy . . . you're not going to make trouble for me, are you? I need this job." His glare provided her answer. Helplessly, she stepped from the door and watched him leave.

**Author's Note: **I took some time off from work this past week, so I was able to write more than usual. As a result, I should have Chapter 10 up shortly. The first two sections of the chapter are much lighter in tone, while the third section deals with an issue Pike is having with his son. I hope you continue following this series. As always, your comments are encouraged and highly appreciated.


	10. Chapter 10 Mothers

**Author's Note: **Chapter 10 represents the second of a four part series taking place during Uhura, Kirk, and McCoy's first year as cadets. The first sections humorously (I hope) depict them in the hours before they are to depart for a military training exercise. The last section introduces a subplot involving Pike and his son, Jack. As a separate story, I have posted a slightly more explicit version (Rated M) of the Kirk _sexcapade. _However, it does not deviate significantly from what you will find, below, in this submission. As always, your comments are encouraged and welcome.

* * *

Uhura should have known _something was up_. All week Jordan had been tempting her with pastries at breakfast. As Uhura sat at a table eating a small cup of plain yogurt, her Bible Study friend came toward her with a small plate bearing a cream puff. "Uhura, look what I have. They just put out a new tray."

"No . . . no . . . Jordan, don't you dare bring that _thing_ near me."

Sitting down beside her and holding it up between his fingers. "It's calling your name." Seductively, "U – hu – ra . . . U – hu – ra."

"Do you know how many calories that thing has?"

"No. How many?"

"A trillion!"

"Well, this is the low calorie versions. Only a billion calories in this one."

"What is wrong with you?! You know sweets are one of my biggest weaknesses."

"Sometimes we need to allow ourselves the pleasure of a few treats."

"Those _treats_ added at least one kilo (2 lbs.) to my weight! My clothes are now so tight, I won't be able to get them on if I keep this up."

"You'll be able to work it off without any trouble."

"Yeah, right."

"The cafeteria only has items a few times a year, so why not indulge yourself?"

"The so-called dietician ought to be fired. There seemed to be quite a bit of high caloric foods this week."

Holding the cream puff closer to her mouth, "I heard the cream filling is flavored with amaretto."

Mouth watering. "Amaretto . . . Oh, Jordan . . . Oh, Jordan!"

"Just one bite."

Succumbing, she took a large bite. "Mmmmmmmmmm . . . " Jordan laughed as he watched her lick her lips with her tongue. He placed the remainder of the confection back on the plate. "You know you just broke one of the eleven commandments."

"The _eleven_ commandments?"

"You know the one that says, _Thou shalt not tempt thy neighbor with Armaretto flavored filling cream puffs._"

"Oh, _that_ eleventh commandment."

Patting her slightly protruding stomach, "Do you really think I'll be able to work this off without any trouble?"

"Are you still scheduled for that off-planet training, tomorrow?"

"Yeah, it's still a go."

"Then, you'll work it off sooner than you think."

"I don't think I'll get much of a workout with this training. Seems like a lot of effort for nothing. I hear it will take us four hours at warp speed to get there. Then we're only scheduled to be at the training site for two hours before we make the trip back to campus."

As a matter of fact, "Is that right?"

Detecting something in his tone, "Jordan, is there something you're not telling me?"

The upperclassman put an arm around her and moved his lips close to her ear as if to tell her a secret. Whispering, "My little Christian sister . . ."

Eager, "Yes, Jordan."

" . . . I've got to go to class."

"Jordan!" He picked up his bag and slung it across his shoulder. As she eyed the remnants of the confection, Jordan snatched it up.

"Wouldn't want to be the cause of any more broken commandments." He popped it in his mouth and walked away.

Kirk should have known _something was up_ . . . that is, something else besides his libido. Still before dawn, he pulled himself out of the sleeping arms of Rita Tyler, the civilian manager of the Academy woman's dorm. She was 66 (yes, 66 – but she did not look a day over 58). Over time, plastic surgery allowed her to keep her breasts perky and ass tight. The only turn off being the wrinkles on her elbows and gray hairs that were someplace other than the top of her head. Kirk chose to just close his eyes when he visited that region.

She would tell him, "Stop being so squeamish about it. It's just a sign that the best things improve with age."

Kirk retorted, "That's only true for wine and cheese."

Laughing, "Then it's a mark of being time tested and well traveled."

"Is that supposed to be a selling point?"

Now naked in the early hours of Saturday morning, Kirk found it difficult to find his clothes in the dark. Feeling around the floor on his hands and knees, he had some success finding a few articles before hitting his head against her vanity.

"Lights at 25%." As Rita eyes adjusted to the light, she saw the cadet on the floor gingerly touching the place where his forehead met one of the handles of her drawers. "Are you all right?"

Feeling woozy as blood trickled down his face. "Blood . . . a little blood."

"Not on my new white rug!"

In a haze, _Thanks for thinking of me._

The woman jumped out of bed (quite spry for her age), threw on a robe, and quickly retrieved a wet wash cloth. Coming down beside him, she first dabbed a spot of blood that had fallen beside him. Checking other areas around Kirk, she sighed with relief when she could not find any other stains. "Thank goodness, I got to it in time. They just laid down this new rug a week, ago."

"I could use a little help, myself."

"All right, Jimmy. Be still."She wiped the blood from his face with the same cloth used on the rug and then applied the cloth to the injury. She took one of his hands to take the place of hers against the cloth. "Hold it there, Jimmy, until the bleeding stops." "So, what were you doing crawling around in the dark?"

Still feeling a bit lightheaded, "Off-planet training. Orders to be at the departure site at 5:30."

"First year student, right?"

"Yeah . . . thought you knew that."

"Just wanted to make sure. Is it your first off-planet training, since you've joined the corps?"

"Yeah . . . why do you ask?"

"I was just thinking I can make you a big breakfast before you go. Eggs . . . pancakes . . . sausage . . . I think I might even have some applesauce."

"No . . . no . . . I'm not hungry."

"You need your breakfast, Jimmy. It's the way to start the day right!"

"Look, Rita. We've got a long ride and then we're just there for a hot second before we turn around and come back. Reminds me of one of those god-awful school field trips when you spend more time getting there, than you do at the main event."

As if she did not hear him, "Jimmy, it will take me no time at all to prepare an energy-boosting breakfast." She began to rise, but he grasped her hand to stop her progress.

Exasperated, "Hey . . . what's up with the food? I really don't need my mother right now."

As she sat back down, she glanced at a clock, "Well . . . you, at least, have plenty of time before you have to leave. I'll sit with you for a while until you feel like moving, again." She warms as she remembers the previous night. Touching his hair in an affectionate manner, "You know, Jimmy, you don't have to sneak out of here the way you do when you're with those _girls_. _Adults_ are allowed to have company at any time."

"How do _you_ know when I'm here?"

"Come on, Jimmy. I thought you were smarter than that. What privacy exists at the Academy? There are devices at every door recording who comes in and who goes out. You'll also find them in the hallways."

"What about the rooms?" He removed the cloth from his forehead.

"Not allowed. At least, that's what they say."

"So, what do you do, watch the recordings just for kicks?"

"Only when I'm really, really bored. But, that hasn't been lately." She kissed his lips. Kirk responded in kind.

Reaching inside her robe, he allowed his hand to lightly massage her. She smiled with delight thinking, _As soon as I get a chance, I've got to tell the doctors these new nerve endings they implanted are much improved over the previous models._

"Does the data automatically save to some sort of drive?"

Aroused by the stimulation caused by his touch, "You certainly are full of questions this morning. Why do you want to know?"

"I'm just a curious little boy . . . OWWWWW!" Kirk jumped as he received a small electric shock. Quickly drawing his head back, "What the frack was that?!"

_Damn_. Trying to quiet him, "Just a small complication." She kissed him, again, this time sliding her tongue in and out of his mouth . . . again . . . and again . . . and again. Softly, "You were saying."

"I said . . . " swallowing as he tried to connect with his _sexy_ voice, ". . . I'm just a curious little boy." With a roguish smile, "I believe your next line should be – _you're not so little._"

"Don't kid yourself. You certainly know how to use it, but I've lived long enough to see quite a few _more gifted specimens_."

_Thank you, very much. _"So, Rita, after thoroughly deflating my ego, are you _now_ are you going to tell me where the recordings are usually stored?"

She considers his request for a few moments, before acquiescing. "Usually after three days the data automatically stores on the campus server and nobody – as far as I know - ever looks at it." Glancing at the clock, she rose and extended a hand to him. "Come on, Jimmy. . . _Let Mommy help you get dressed_."

Smirking, _I can see this is going to be a long and healthy relationship._

As she assisted him with his clothes, Kirk wondered how to find the schematics to the dorm's computer system. Once acquired, it should not prove too difficult to manipulate it, so she would see only what he wanted her to see. He thought, _Can't have her keeping tabs on my nocturnal visits. _

She completed buttoning his shirt and then slid one of her hands downward, resting her hand on his crotch. Speaking low and seductively against his chest, "Jimmy, I hope you're feeling much, much better." Looking up _innocently_, she was surprised to see the expression on his face. "What are you smiling about?"

"Mothers."

Dr. Leonard "Bones" McCoy should have known _something was up_. He learned all available Medical Corps personnel were assigned to a squad for Saturday's military exercise. He picked up a first aid bag which included several sophisticated, high tech treatment devices. However, he bemoaned the fact these kits never included any low tech backups. He argued, _Sometimes all you need a damn bandage._

* * *

Four personnel carriers filled the departure site. First year cadets streamed into the area, wearing fatigues and carrying a field kit with one day's rations. Uhura and Gaila checked the "boards" for their team and transport assignment. They were glad when they saw they were both to serve with the same 12-person team, since in past training exercises roommates were often separated. Overall, Uhura was satisfied with the members listed on the squad, including Moretti who used to come to Bible Study. However, Uhura could do without two of the team members. Pointing their names out to Gaila, "Look, who's with us - Kirk and his court jester, McCoy." In their ongoing hot/cold relationship, they were in the frozen stage. Kirk still needled her about the _Vulcan Penis Story_ and Uhura did not know when he would ever get over his obsession concerning her first name. But she thought, _He can't keep that game up much longer _. . . _or could he?_

"You were tapping _what_ last night?!" McCoy's incredulous voice broke the cool morning air. A few meters (5 ft.) away from them, Uhura turned and saw a tired eyed Kirk in vain trying to quiet his friend. The doctor usually enjoyed hearing every sordid detail of his younger friend's sexual escapades, but this was too much even for him. "What the hell is wrong with you, Jim-boy? I would say you had an Oedipal complex, but _that woman_ is old enough to be your mother's mother!"

Uhura shuddered as she heard Kirk's response, "You know 66 is the new 40."

Giggling, Gaila nudged Uhura, "I had my doubts before, but now this sounds like this is going to be a fun trip!" Uhura rolled her eyes.

* * *

Dressed in officer fatigues, Pike reviewed and approved final checklists confirming the logistical arrangements for the training exercise. He then gave the signal for the cadets to begin boarding the transports. Among them, Cadet Joseph Michael Moretti stuck out among the others. A few days ago, he had sent the young man to undergo a psychological evaluation. Privacy policies kept him from inquiring about the results of the assessment or whether Moretti had actually kept his appointment. However, when setting up the squads, Pike made sure certain members of Moretti's peers were included. McCoy was an obvious choice due to his psychiatry expertise, but he also picked Uhura – the communications expert whose congenial manner and seemingly ubiquitous presence made her the favorite of many of her classmates. And Kirk – although a bit on the wild side – had shown leadership skills similar to the Iowan's heroic father.

Pike thought how ironic it was he had so recently tried to counsel Moretti on a domestic matter, when he was experiencing his own family crisis. Earlier that morning, he had left his 10 year old son, Jack, asleep in Spock's apartment. He tried not to disturb the boy as he bent down to kiss his forehead. Pike tried to calm his anger as the bruise on his son's cheek reminded him of the child's trauma.

Jack attended a local public school, catching the sky bus with other children near the front entrance to the Academy grounds. At only 1.25 meters (a little over 4 ft.) in height, Jack was smaller than most boys his age. Unfortunately, as was the case with other children deemed _different_, he became a convenient target for school bullies.

It started off a few months ago as verbal abuse with Jack facing taunts and insults. Still, Pike – who had only recently taken on the role as a full-time father – did not take the situation seriously at first. He counseled his son, "Boys will be boys. If you let them know they are getting to you, they'll never stop trying to intimidate you."Jack wanted his father to be proud of him. After living most of his life solely with his mother, his father finally won a contentious custody battle to allow Jack to live with him while teaching at the Academy. The boy did not want to let his father down, so when asked if the bullying had stopped the boy thought he could do nothing else, but lie. Pike patted his son on the back and told him, "You see, that's the way you have to learn to deal with those types. You showed them you're better than them."

Pike thought all was fine until one evening he came into the boy's room to check on his sleeping son. But as he opened the door, his nose was immediately assaulted by a foul odor. Turning up the lights just enough to see, he found his son in different pajamas than he had on earlier that evening and the boy was now lying on top of a bare mattress. Looking under the bed, Pike found the source of the stench – his bed covers, sheets and pajamas were soaked in his son's urine.

Feeling angry, confused, and helpless all at the same time, Pike cleaned the stained items. He thought about calling his ex-wife for her advice, but then feared the situation may be used in an attempt to take Jack away from him. He decided he would need to deal with the matter without apprising her of the matter.

The next day, Pike had colleagues cover his classes while he met with school officials. The principal, homeroom teacher, and school social worker were all sympathetic to Jack's plight. However, they had, yet, to reliably identify the perpetrators and none of the children - including Jack - would do so for fear of reprisals. Angry, confused and helpless, Pike charged, "So there's nothing to be done, but let _children_ control the school?"

The principal tried to assuage Pike's by telling him, "I assure you we are doing everything we can to monitor the situation and bring the problem to a quick and just resolution that will be best for all concerned."

The Captain shot back as if correcting one of his midshipmen, "I don't give a damn about _all concerned!_ I'm here for my son. And, when he's in your care, I expect you to safeguard his security. Do I make myself clear?"

For a few weeks, school officials paid extra attention to Jack and his interactions with others in the classroom, playground and at lunch. The strategy seemed to work until, last Wednesday, when Jack unknowingly came into a school bathroom where three boys hid waiting for him. They punched and kicked him until the leader called the others off in order to flee without notice from one of the teachers.

Angry, confused and helpless – Pike came to the school as soon as he was notified. Jack had been administered first aid by the school nurse who reported, "Fortunately, nothing had been broken. We've applied a cold compress to the bruise on his face. After a few days, the injury will hardly be noticeable."

The principal told Pike she was questioning possible suspects, but Jack still refused to assist with the process.

Seething, Pike spoke no words to his son all the way home. It was not until he closed the door of their apartment before he questioned his son.

"Who did this to you?" Silence. Louder, "Who did this to you?"

Shrinking under his Dad's voice, "I can't tell you."

"I'm your father. You've got to tell me."

"I can't do it."

Out of frustration, Pike threatened him, "Then don't worry about getting that bicycle you wanted for your birthday. If you can't tell me who did this to you, then I can't get you that bicycle."

"Right now, do you think I really care about a bicycle?! They hurt me, but you're hurting me even more!"

As Jack ran to his bedroom, the indictment cut Pike to his core. In his fervor to find out the identity of his son's attackers, he too had become a bully. The Captain sat very still, but his mind and heart were racing. He needed to find some way to _make this right. _

Pike stood at his son's door. He entered the room lit only be the light coming into it from the hallway. The Captain quietly sat next to his son whose face was turned away toward the wall. When Pike placed his hand on the pillow next to the boy's head, he felt it damp with his tears.

Tenderly, "Jack." No response. "Jack."

Barely audible with his response, "Yeah."

"I made a mistake . . . I didn't know what to do or say . . . I still don't know what to do or say. Son, I'm asking you to forgive me."

To Pike, it seemed like an eternity before Jack turned his body around so he was lying on his back looking up at him. The boy said, "You don't have to apologize, Dad. Everyone knows you're hero . . . the Captain of a Federation Starship. Heroes don't have to apologize."

Correcting, "Yes, Jack . . . they do. I do have to apologize. Do you forgive me?"

"Of course, I do. After all, you're my father."

Pike's eyes became moist. _How could so much grace be in such a little boy?_

"Dad, I want you to be proud of me, but I'm not doing such a good job of it so far."

Trying to keep his composure. "Jack, do you know what unconditional means?"

"Not really."

"It means it is not limited by conditions. I want you to know that _I love you . . . unconditionally_. And as far as being proud of you . . . the way you stood up to me tonight . . . that took courage . . . quite a bit of courage. I have never been more proud of you in my . . . " Before he could finish his sentence, Pike found Jack in his arms. _Safe_.

On Friday, Pike did not meet Spock for their morning run and breakfast. Concerned, Spock came to the Captain's apartment where his friend unburdened himself with the problem.

The Vulcan surprised Pike by his question. "Has Jack spoken to his mother about the issue?"

"Of course, not. I'm sure Jack wouldn't want to worry her."

"Mothers have a way of sensing when their children are in trouble. Thus, it will not be long before she uncovers the truth. Is that the way you would like her to find out what has been upsetting him?"

Pike replied, "We don't need for her to get involved." However, he knew it was actually _he_ who did not want to get her involved.

"I am at a loss concerning your rationale for not wanting to involve her. She raised your son, alone, for 10 years."

"You know I didn't want it that way. I didn't even know she was pregnant until after I accepted my first command."

"The fact still remains she has been a significant force in his life, while you have not. Captain, at this point in his life, who knows him better – you or his mother?

After a few moments, Pike admitted, "Your truth burns, Mr. Spock."

"Then, as my mother would say, _this truth must come from the heart."_

"It does not make it any easier to bear."

"Captain, his mother may have some insight to share that will help your son better address this dilemma."

"So, how does a man who has never been married or had any children, know so frackin' much about these matters?"

"As I matured, I had the privilege to learn by the example set by my own parents."

"Well, sometimes we don't learn . . . we just get older."

Without hesitation Spock gently replied, "That statement does not fit you, my friend. Like you, men of compassion are not born, they grow into it."

With Spock's words, the crushing weight resting on Pike suddenly seemed to lift from his body. He could breathe, again . . . Pike could breathe.

Still asleep, Jack would not be going to school that day. It was too late to find substitutes for Pike's classes, so he had to cancel them. But, the first year cadet training exercise was a different matter. Pike was the CO for the activity and a major player in its planning. Hundreds of people were counting on him. _Duty called. _

Originally, Jack was to stay with Lieutenant Kowalski and his wife, who had a child at the same school although not in the same grade. However, now Pike thought of a different solution to his child care needs. "Spock, I know this is a lot to ask, but can Jack stay with you? It would put me at ease while I'm away if I knew you were looking after him. Could you do this for me?"

Frankly, taking care of a 10 year old Terran boy had to be one of the last ways Spock wanted to spend his time. However, Jack did not seem as obnoxious as other human children and the Vulcan could never refuse his Captain.

Confident Jack was in good hands, Pike now could turn his full attention on the military exercise. Receiving word the transports were loaded, he donned his military mask and boarded one of the ships ready for departure. Although such activities were always painstaking planned, sometimes accidents happened and even deaths. But Pike was determined not to bring the devil with him on this mission, _Not on my watch._

**Author's Note:** I hope to post the next chapter within the next seven days. Please continue along with this journey.


	11. Chapter 11 Learning to Fly

**Author's Note: **Chapter 11 represents the second of a multi-part flashback series taking place during Uhura's first year as a cadet. This section primarily features Uhura and Kirk. I promise to get back to Uhura and Spock, shortly. Hopefully, the payoff will be worth the wait. As always, your comments are always welcome.

* * *

Strapped into her seat of the personnel transport, Uhura awaited the starship's departure for their four hour trip to the training site. The transport contained few amenities to help pass the time away. Designed for warp speed travel taking eight hours or less, the ship had ten passenger levels with one long center aisle way dividing rows of seats on either side. Each squad was assigned seats in close proximity to its team members.

For the most part, members had paired up or formed trios to converse with during their voyage – Uhura with Gaila, Kirk with McCoy, Parker with Shinning Elk, Tsu with Jorgensen and Randolph, and squad leaders Oum with Bautista. Of their squad, Uhura noted Moretti appeared to be a solitary figure on a ship full of vocal cadets. He sat very still, staring blankly ahead of himself. As a linguist, Uhura was trained to pick up on nonverbal cues as an important indicator of mood and state of mind. Something about Moretti troubled her, but she did not know why. She decided she needed to make it a point to speak with him once they arrived at their destination.

"Hey!" Uhura exclaimed as she felt Gaila jab her with an elbow.

"Check out Kirk. He's in trouble, again." Uhura looked across the aisle and saw Kirk handing over an earpiece to Oum. "He knew musical and personal communication devices are against regulations on these training exercises, yet, he had one in his ear for anyone to see."

Uhura watched Oum pocket the earpiece and retake his seat several rows behind them. Kirk's smile could not have been broader as McCoy beamed at him with pride. Unimpressed, she catches Kirk's eye as she gives him a mock yawn. He blows her a kiss, which she snatches from the air and acts disgusted while whipping it back to him.

"I tell you, Uhura, I just don't understand him. I can't believe how Kirk can just play it off as though he hasn't done anything wrong."

"Oh, he knows what he's done all right. He knew one of the squad leaders would be waiting for him to break that rule, so he gave them what was expected. Believe me, he has one or two more earpieces in his pocket which I assure you he will find a way to use with much more discretion."

Although Uhura seemed to convey disapproval of his antics, Kirk more often intrigued her. He often took on the role of the class clown, but his academic performance told a different story. A voracious reader, he often took on both required and recommended readings for each course. His ability to recall and provide insightful critical analysis of the material impressed both his peers and the faculty. He easily would have earned the top grades in his class, if it were not for his penchant to challenge those few faculty members who failed to stay current in their discipline. Kirk had no patience for these instructors who he contended, "They're only at the Academy, because they outgrew their usefulness on a starship. I don't understand why Starfleet is punishing _us_ by keeping _them_ in the classroom?"With his disdain for them no secret, the instructors found ways to mark down his work based on subjective measures that could hardly be substantiated. Yet, Kirk never complained or filed a grievance as he willingly accepted the grade reduction for the freedom to speak his mind.

Uhura also recognized how Kirk excelled in military training, always eager to master the latest tools and tactics of the field. A student of military history, he enjoyed the time he and his mentor, Captain Pike, engaged in enthusiastic discussions about strategies used in battles fought long ago. A superb pilot, he helped Uhura overcome the only challenge she thought would keep her from meeting her Starfleet career objectives.

Anyone who aspired to be a bridge officer must learn how to pilot a Starship. Using a simulator, Uhura had little trouble understanding the computerized controls of the ship if operated under normal conditions. However, when complications arose that required greater skill, she failed to meet the challenge no matter how much coaching she received and practice she undertook. One Saturday, Kirk found her nearly in tears as she once again failed to safely pilot the virtual ship into a planet's atmosphere. Frustrated, but refusing to be beaten, she gave the command for the simulator to begin the exam program, again. As she readied herself, she suddenly heard a familiar voice cancelling the initiation sequence.

Uhura glared at Kirk as he entered the simulator room and plopped down in the trainer's seat next to her. "So, what's up?"

"Listen, Kirk, I'm in no mood for your games, today."

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm trying to pass the damn pilot's exam. I get one more chance to take it on Monday and if I fail this time . . . "

"You will fail if you continue to waste your time practicing on this simulator."

"Was that supposed to cheer me up?"

"I'm just trying to help you. After all, if you don't pass this test you won't be able to serve as a bridge officer on my ship."

"On _your_ ship? Do you really believe Starfleet is going to give _you_ a commission to captain a starship?"

"That's right."

"Aren't you the same guy who doesn't think twice about pissing off faculty members who are responsible for writing evaluations used to place cadets on the commanding officer's track?"

"I don't need them to get what I want."

" Kirk, you never seem to play by the rules, but for me it's the only way I know to achieve my goals." Straightening her posture to ready herself for the exam run, "You should leave now, so I'll have time to try this, again."

Turning her chair toward him, "Listen Uhura, playing by the book has worked well for you, thus far. But, there are times when the best course of action comes from within. Piloting is like that. Ninety-nine percent of the time you'll rely on what you learned from the flight manuals and training officers. However, there is still that one percent which requires you to trust your intuition."

"How can I trust what I cannot see?"

"You've got to have faith, Uhura." Smiling, "You of all people ought to understand that."

Kirk's words resonated within her, yet, more doubts came out of hiding. "I don't know if I can find what I need."

"Then, I'll show you."

"You may be wasting your time with me."

Kirk pulled her up out of her seat and commanded, "Let's go."

After transferring twice on a SkyBus line, within 90 minutes the two cadets were high up in the mountains at a lodge. Kirk asked Uhura to wait, while he retrieved a hoverbike.

"How did you get that?", she asked.

With his usual _I'm up to something_ boyish grin, he answered, "Got it from a friend who owes me a favor." Straddling the bike, he told her, "Get on."

"Isn't it against the law to ride one of these things without a helmet?"

"_Get on_."

Uhura straddled the bike behind him not because he told her to do so, but because she was curious as to his strategy. "All right, now wha - AH – AH – AH – AH – AH!" Before she could complete her question Kirk gunned the engine, sending the bike speeding down the curve-filled mountain road. She barely had time to grab him around the waist, holding on for dear life. At first, she closed her eyes and pressed her face against his back. Kirk responded by taking such sharp turns around the curves that she had to open her eyes to see what he was doing. However, doing so almost made her pee in her pants with fright. Closing her eyes, she buried her face, again, and dug her knees into his thighs in an effort to stay on the bike.

Then Kirk purposely dove off the road and flying down into a ravine sending her stomach up into her throat. Uhura finally garnered the nerve to lift her head to scream, "KIRK! WHAT IN THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!

Raising his voice over the roar of the bike, he told her, "I'm teaching you how to fly!" Although she did not think it would be possible, when the bike touched down on a road, below, Kirk sped the vehicle even faster than before.

"YOU'RE SCARING ME TO DEATH!"

"Good!"

"GOOD?! ARE YOU INSANE?!"

"Now you can start to live!"

"KIRK! YOU'RE GOING TO KILL US!"

"Loosen your grip!"

"I CAN'T!" A piercing scream followed as Kirk made a loop in the air with the bike.

"Loosen your grip!"

Unwilling to bear another aerial trick, Uhura somehow managed to take a breath and offered a quick, "Help me, Jesus." But, then . . . with her head against his back . . . she unexpectedly found comfort in the sound of Kirk's heartbeat. The organ throbbed at an accelerated pace, but for some strange reason it calmed her as she focused on it. Listening to _his rhythm_ gradually relaxed her body and awakened her senses.

_The warmth of his body_ . . .

_The feel of the perspiration trickling down from his neck . . ._

_His strong, alluring scent . . ._

_Conscious of the way her bio-rhythms now matched his._

_The ways his body welcomed and eagerly responded to the adrenaline rush . . ._

_Her body responding to his . . . ._

_Her grip loosening around his waist and thighs . . . _

_Finding her faith . . ._

_Her eyes were opened._

Uhura lifted her head and placed her lips close to his ear. Her whispered, "_Thank you," _incited another aerial loop from Kirk. However, now she laughed and dared him, "Do a double loop this time!"

* * *

Two and a half hours into their journey to their training site, Gaila fell asleep leaving Uhura to her own thoughts. Across the aisle, McCoy left his seat to use the head.

Uhura could feel Kirk's eyes on her.

Kirk was the man whose impressive intellect was matched only by his immense confidence in his own abilities.

Kirk was the man whose seemingly insatiable sexual appetites sought relief in the beds of her classmates, as well as, the arms of a woman nearly three times his age.

Kirk was the man who never saw a rule he could not ignore.

Kirk was the man who taught her to how to fly.

_His eyes on her . . . his eyes on her . . . his eyes on her . . ._

But, Uhura could not return his look, because . . .

_Kirk was not the man of her dreams_.

* * *

**Author's Note: **The next chapter will be up within the next seven days. Thanks for following along.


	12. Chapter 12 Revelations

**Author's Note: **Taking place during Uhura's first year as a cadet, Chapter 12 represents the fourth part of a multi-part flashback series that began with Chapter 9. This section primarily features Pike, Spock, and Uhura. As always, your comments are always welcome.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any part of _Star Trek_ or the song, _The Closer I Get to You, _of which excerpts appear in the following story.

* * *

Peeking into the room, Spock saw Jack was still soundly asleep on the Vulcan's bed. Dressed in officer fatigues and pulling a suitcase behind him, Captain Pike had brought his son to the his friend's apartment at 4:45 AM, knowing Spock would be rested and already up for nearly an hour. Virtually sleepwalking, the boy was barely cognizant as Pike guided him to the freshly laid sheets of the bed. Spock averted his eyes as the father kissed his son tenderly on his cheek.

Standing by the front door, Spock listened as Pike listed Jack's food likes/dislikes. "Spaghetti, but not noodles. I tell him, pasta is pasta – but he still won't eat the noodles."

Spock commented drily, "No noodles."

"Right. Pepperoni pizza with mushrooms is his favorite, but don't let him talk you into replicating it every night."

"I'll endeavor to remember."

"About Brussels sprouts, he does not care for them but he will eat them if you flavor them with a little –"

"I am sorry to interrupt you, Captain, but I would not want you to be late for the cadets."

Glancing at Spock's desk chronometer, "I still have over ten minutes to spare and a lot more to go over with you."

"Captain, since there is so little time, perhaps, you should just concentrate on the instructions you did not include in the 13-page, single space document you sent to my PADD yesterday afternoon."

"Spock, you're exaggerating . . . aren't you?"

"Page 11, paragraph 3, line 6. At 7:15 PM on Thursdays, Jack usually enjoys a snack of two double stuff Oreo cookies and a cup of whole milk."

Spock's recitation evokes a droll smile from the Captain. "You're making me feel as though I am more fastidious than my own mother."

"Sir, I believe your mother is quite a fine woman. I would hardly insult her that way."

"All right, I give up. It's too damn early in the morning for me to come up with a clever retort."

"Then there is nothing left to say except be assured I will take good care of your son." Spock opened the door to encourage the captain's exit.

Pike reluctantly took a step through the door, but then turned back to Spock. "It's not easy being a father, especially after so many years of apart from him." He took a pause before revealing, "I took your advice and found time to talk to his mother about the bullying issue. Her perspective . . . her perspective was actually quite insightful."

"I am pleased you have made this bridge."

"She'll be calling Jack later, today, from her home in Madrid. It will be 4:30 PM there, so that will make it . . ."

"8:30 AM in San Francisco."

"Right. Jack should be up by that time and would have had time to eat his breakfast."

"On Saturdays, its pancakes with blueberries and a glass of orange juice fortified with calcium. All will be prepared to his liking, according to your explicit instructions."

"Spock, I know I may seem like the picture of the doting father, but now that I finally have custody of Jack for a few years until our next mission . . . I just don't want to screw it up."

There was no joking in his voice when Spock told his Captain, "Sir, with you as his father, I do not see how that would be possible."

"Thank you, Spock." As Pike held the Vulcan with his eyes, he wondered if Spock knew how much he treasured their friendship. He could disclose his doubts and fears about himself and Spock would know just what to say to provide the nourishment he needed for any situation that would arise. However, Pike took more satifaction in knowing their relationship was, indeed, reciprocal. He welcomed the Vulcan's reliance on him to serve as his compass as he navigated through the mysteries of his humanity.

Long ago Pike had stopped trying to understand why so many of his colleagues still thought of Spock as an _alien_, someone so unlike themselves. Spock was different, yes, but there was so much about him that was truly admirable. . . a thirst for knowledge . . . a defender of truth . . . a champion of reason. For sport, he could wield his sharp wit like a sword, easily cutting down those who dared to challenge him. Yet, his passion for the arts and literature revealed an ardent patron of beauty, perception, and the wonders of creative expression. And, although a private man, he knew Spock had loved . . . did love . . . longed to be loved.

Smiling, Pike told his friend, "I suppose that was my exit line."

Spock watched him as Pike started to turn and walk away, but then he unexpectedly turned back. Spock asked him, "Is there an epilogue, sir?"

"I just wanted you to know that when I get a chance after the training mission, I want to talk with you about your scoping activities at the bar on Wednesday night."

"Scoping? I'm not sure I understand the use of the term within that context."

"I am sure you recall there were a large group of cadets there that night. I saw you looking in their direction several times as though watching someone in particular. You left before I had a chance to find out anything more. Then, over the past few days I've been so preoccupied with Jack, I haven't had a chance to bring it up."

"Bring what up, sir?"

Giving him the _You must think I'm stupid face_, "Do you have _interests_ in a cadet, Mr. Spock? Because if you do, not only is it against regulations, but for those who have crossed that line it has proven to be a slippery slope."

Tersely, "Sir, I would not want you to be late."

Pike knew if there were no validity to his allegation, Spock would have not hesitated to deny it. So, like a true Vulcan, he chose evasion as his preferred tactic. Nevertheless, Spock was correct in regards to the time and it hardly seemed appropriate to continue to pursue the matter at present. While he knew Spock may be uncomfortable with the gesture, Pike clasped a warm hand on his shoulder. He did not want to leave with those words between them. "Thank you, again, for what you've done for me and Jack."

It pleased Pike when Spock did not shrink from his touch or appear discomforted. The Vulcan told him, "I hope the sentiment has meaning to you as I respond with the ancient Terran phrase - Godspeed, Captain."

Spock watched as Christopher Pike walked away, this time without a rejoinder. He wondered, _Had I been so transparent at the bar the other night?_ He was sure the other officers on their outing had not noticed, but Pike knew him too well. He would have to be more careful if such a situation would ever arise, again.

Jack awakened at 7:33 AM. Using the replicator program card Pike had provided, he prepared the boy's usually Saturday morning breakfast. He marveled at how Jack devoured the large meal, although the boy had such a small frame. Learning his mother would call him at 8:30 AM, he quickly showered and dressed. Spock set up the VidScreen in his bedroom to allow privacy. Once assured a viable connection, he closed the door and went to his living room.

With his usual morning routine disrupted, Spock decided it would be an opportune time prepare for the remainder of the day through meditation. On a meditation mat, he sat in the lotus position and readied himself. The first cleansing breath served to relax him. The second one centered his thoughts. With his eyes half-closed, he now focused just on his breathing to transport himself to the desired meditative state. But after only a few minutes, he felt his mind starting to drift. After years of following this tradition, it was rare for him to lose his focal point once initiating his technique.

As he began his meditative process again, Spock decided to close his eyes fully this time. The first cleansing breath . . . second cleansing breath . . . focus on breaths. Still, his mind began to drift. A meditation teacher once told him that if the mind occasionally wanted to wander, he should not try to resist. So, he allowed his thoughts to take him to a different place . . . a different time . . . . three days ago at a bar called Schmaltz.

* * *

On a personnel transport on the way to a military training exercise, Uhura felt Gaila stir next to her after indulging in a nap. "Are we there, yet?" her Orion friend asked.

"You might as well go back to sleep. We've probably another 80 minutes of flight time."

"That long? I probably will catch more snooze time after I use the head." Rising from her seat she added, "I'll just be a minute."

As Gaila crossed in front of her, Uhura could only smile at her roommate's last comment. Gaila had no actual experience with the concept of only spending _a minute_ in the bathroom. She _loved_ that facility. Gaila once explained to Uhura that in most Orion homes the bathroom was the largest and most important room in the house, that is, after the bedroom. Orions considered the making of one's toilet to be a highly sensual art form and significant culture bearer for their people. Rushing one's toilet was an unconscionable sacrilege. After listening to her friend's passionate account, Uhura could only think, _if I ever find myself in a situation where the need becomes urgent, I better make sure to beat Gaila to the bathroom._

* * *

Schmaltz – a throwback to the karaoke bars of Earth's late-20th to early-21st centuries – did not know the word for quiet. It rocked loud and hard, with beer and liquor flowing as fiercely as rapids on a river. The place packed in the cadets on Wednesday nights with their 2-for-1 specials and _free _tapas bar.

No secret to anyone who knew him, Spock did not frequent bars and detested this highly questionable form of entertainment. However, once a month Captain Pike hosted a get-together of former officers from the Enterprise as a way to maintain the camaraderie they had built during their starship service. Most expected to serve with Pike, again, when the new model of the Enterprise was finally ready in a few years. Others had received commissions or soon expected appointments to captain their own starships. As reflective of this point is Starfleet's history, men filled nearly all the seats around the tables they had pulled together. No spouses or partners allowed and, if necessary, child care arrangements had to be made to last well into the night.

When Spock arrived, Pike held court as usual over a motley group of officers who had already began feeling the effects of their joy juice. The Vulcan reluctantly sat in the chair the captain saved nearby him to deter Spock from leaving before the agreed upon two hour minimum stay. With their tables perched on a side platform six feet above the main floor, the position afforded a vantage as well as separation from the cadets.

With no subject sacred, their conversation could turn to a variety of topics – politics, religion, sex, literature, or the arts. However, in a place like Schmaltz, little talk could be heard above the clamor. Discussion became reduced to sound bites and recreation turned to drink.

Johansen downed another shot glass of whiskey, and then came between Pike and Spock. The Captain watched Spock's face as the commander embraced them both. However, Spock's face remained coolly impassive as the Norwegian spoke, "So, Chris."

"So, Svein," Pike replied.

"Whose idea was it to return to the playground?"

"Grotowski." Pike caught the eye of the young ensign at the end of their space and raised a glass to him to reveal his identity. The ensign smiled and nodded.

Johansen sighed. "That baby? No wonder. He's just revisiting his childhood and he's making us all go along for the ride."

"It was his turn to choose."

"From now on, Chris, you should only let the adults choose. Don't you think so, Spock?"

The roar from the crowd of cadets surrounding the small karaoke stage spared Spock from responding. Eyes turned to a couple standing readying to perform with mikes in hand. Of all the karaoke singers which performed that night, the presence of this duo had the effect of quieting the crowd who seemed to anticipate their act with high expectations. Using a classic pop song from the 20th century, the female singer's lovely alto voice embraced the first lines of the Donny Hathaway/Robert Flack standard.

_The closer I get to you  
The more you'll make me see  
Like giving me all you've got  
Your love has captured me_

Spock recognized the singer instantly as Cadet Uhura . . . Nyota. From his position, he could see how her braided hair framed her face and hung loosely about her shoulders. Dressed in civilian clothes, his eyes followed her attractive curves as outlined by her knit yellow top and tan snug-fitting pants. Sensual . . . warm . . . radiant . . . she was simply, _Beautiful._

But then, New Orleans-born Cadet Marcus Thibodeaux joined the song. A biochemistry major, Spock knew Thibodaux as a better than average student who had caught the attention of more than a few female cadets. Slim, yet, muscular, Thibodaux sported a short Afro and a rich, dark brown complexion. His tan shirt and sienna slacks complemented Uhura's attire. He sang:

Over and over again  
I'll try to tell myself that we  
Could never be more than friends  
And all the while inside  
I knew it was real  
The way you make me feel

These words . . . these words this man _dared_ to sing to Nyota_ . . . _ignited a slow burn within Spock. _How could __that man__ be the one to sing these words to Nyota? . . . _these words that voiced the sentiments of Spock's own heart. Thibodeaux' performance opened the door and envy unexpectedly entered the Vulcan's soul.

Then, one of the few women with the officers' party expressed a comment that ignited a slow burn within him, "They're such an attractive couple."

The burn intensified as the love song continued. Thibodaux' eyes held her as if no one else was present. He then took her hand and pulled her closer to him. This was no mere performance for his passionate delivery and actions made clear his attraction toward Nyota. _Did she reciprocate these feelings? _Spock could not tell.

As the song ended, the bar erupted into thunderous applause. Spock turned away as Thibodaux drew his arms around her. The Vulcan did not want to witness if he kissed her. He could not bear it. _How could Cadet Uhura participate in this public display? . . . How could she allow this?_

* * *

At her crowded table, Uhura entertained Gaila and other Academy friends. Frequently, others would come by to praise her duet. A waitress squeezed through the crowded floor to bring more drinks to her table. Setting most of the glasses before Uhura, the waitress told her, "More grenadine and club soda from your admirers."

Uhura groaned, "If I accept too many more, I'm going to be floating out of here."

Gaila chided her, "This was a fine time for you to only have non-alcoholic drinks, Uhura. We all could have been set for the night."

"I told you how I've been overeating this week with all of that rich food they've been serving at the cafeteria. I could hardly get into my pants this evening. The last thing I needed was all the calories that come with alcohol."

Cadet Ekram chimed in, "Uhura, with your petite frame we should all have your problem. Every time I even look at food, I gain five pounds."

Harry retorted, "You do more than look, Ekram."

Laughter filled the air as her signing partner came up behind Uhura, placing his hands on her shoulders. He then looked around the table nodding to several of the cadets. Bending down beside her, he asked Uhura, "So, where's your boyfriend?"

"What boyfriend?"

Gaila responded, "He's talking about Kirk."

"Kirk, _is not_ my boyfriend . . . he's . . . he's . . . well, he's . . ." She unexpectedly found herself at a loss for words on how to describe their relationship.

Gaila jumped in. "Kirk had to pull extra duty this evening for that stunt he pulled in Mr. Opoku's class." More laughter ensued as they recalled the incident. Most cadets would never dream to duplicate Kirk's, sometimes, reckless behavior; however, many secretly admired him for it.

"If it weren't for Captain Pike, his ass would've been out of here a long time, ago." The fans of Kirk's exploits did not include Marcus, whose ego informed him the Iowan must be the reason he found it so difficult to take his relationship with Uhura to the next level. _Why else wouldn't she want to knock boots with me? _

Ekram noted, "Marcus, you better keep it down. Didn't you see the brass sitting up there?" She nodded in the direction of the officers' party.

"Even if the Vulcan is up there with them, do you really think they can pick up a word being said down here with all of this racket?"

Uhura did not know why, but she suddenly felt uneasy. The usually observant cadet did not previously notice the officers' presence. She wondered how long they had been there. She wondered if Mr. Spock was actually among them. But then she thought, _Why do you care? It's not like it matters. He certainly does not think about you and probably doesn't even remember your name. It's crazy to think otherwise. _

Marcus' next words brought her out of her own thoughts. "Got to go, Little Bit."

Annoyed, Uhura addressed her comments to the rest of the table. "Marcus knows I can't stand that nickname."

"It's a term of affection." Marcus countered.

"That's the problem with Americans; your nicknames are too superficial. My people would never . . .

Interrupting her, "Now, I know it's time to leave whenever Uhura starts talking about _my people_. Who cares?"

"Considering your heritage, you should care. My friend, Shaniqua, convinced me of that."

"Shaniqua? She actually is going through life with a name like that?" Some at the table laugh, until they saw the stern look on Uhura's face.

"Listen, Marcus." She stood to confront him. "My name is not Little Bit, it is Uhura. And, the next time you decide to say something ignorant, you better not have my friend's name in your mouth. To use one of her sayings, _I don't play that_."

Marcus looked at her waiting for her to smile or tell him, _I'm just playing with you_. However, her expression did not change. "All right, _Uhura, _I'll see you tomorrow at choir rehearsal. Right now, I'm looking to score some real drinks from some of my fans." Uhura rolled her eyes, as he left the table.

Before Uhura had a chance to sit, Stefano rose and raised a glass toward her. "To Uhura, whose name means freedom. May she continue to use that freedom to speak from a discerning mind and proud heart." Uhura smiled, basking in the warmth of his words as the others raised their glasses to join the toast.

* * *

The required two hours had passed, so Spock made his obligatory statements of farewell. Earlier in the evening, Pike attempted to bring him into whatever conversations they could initiate fighting to be heard above the clamor or in between karaoke numbers. However, unlike other nights, Spock would not be engaged as he seemed to prefer drowning himself in glass after glass of pomegranate juice. Periodically, he appeared to look across the main floor, but the captain could not pinpoint the object of his friend's attention.

As he left the party, Spock scanned the main floor once more, but did not find Uhura at the table where he previously spotted her. Nor did he see Cadet Thibodeaux. _Had the two of them left the bar earlier avoiding my detection?_

Before heading outside for the walk back to his apartment, Spock decided it best to relieve himself of the juice he had consumed. Coming into the hallway outside the lavatories, Spock noticed the door to the men's bathroom closing just as he approached it. Readying himself for a wait, he placed his hands behind his back and stood erect. An urgent knock on the door of the women's bathroom caught his notice. It was Nyota.

In obvious discomfort, she called out in a strained voice, "Gaila, _please _hurry up!"

From the other side of the door Gaila answered, "I'll be out in a minute."

"You said that five minutes ago!"

"Just a little while longer."

"In a little while it will be too late!"

"Almost done."

"Gaila, if I pee on myself while you're just in there primping and dealing with your makeup, I swear when I get through with you . . . " Coming from the men's bathroom, the roaring sound of someone vomiting startled her. She turned sharply in the direction of the sound and then jumped at the sight of Spock. The movement increased the pressure on her swollen bladder, causing her to squeeze her legs together in an attempt to prevent any flow. After feeling the pressure subside, she heard the Vulcan's speak.

"Cadet Uhura, I believe."

_Oh, God . . . why was it him? _"Yes, sir." She struggled to stand a little straighter, but could not disguise the embarrassment on her face. "I am _flattered_ that you remember my name." _I want to die._

"How could I forget my visit to Dr. Greeley's Introduction to Vulcan course where you endeavored to display your facility with languages? It is not every day one hears someone confuse the Vulcan word for "language" – pronounced "lak"; with the word for "penis" – pronounced "lok." It is my understanding the incident has entered into the lore of the Academy. Quite an accomplishment for a first year student."

_Please God, just kill me now! _"Believe me, sir, it was not an achievement I intended to make."

_Did you intend to stand so close to Cadet _Thibodaux_? _"Then, Cadet, what exactly were your intentions?"

Although still a bit embarrassed, she began to respond to the accusatory subtext in the sound of his voice. "Initially, I endeavored to impress, sir."

_Did you intend to look in his eyes? _"To paraphrase a Robert Burns poem, the best laid plans go astray."

Feeling a growing ire, "Sarcasm, sir?"

_Did you intend to sing a song of love? _"A reflection."

"A reflection, sir? With all due respect, Mr. Spock, it came across as an affront."

_Did you intend to allow him to take you in his arms? _"That may be your perception, but it does not mean it is accurate."

"Sir, the word – affront – is indeed an accurate characterization of my perception of your comment. I believe you meant to say your intent was not to be taken as an offense. If that is the case, I gladly accept _your _apology."

"Cadet Uhura, I – "

Holding up her hand, "Please sir, no other words of contrition are necessary. You've said far too much already."

_Touché_. However, he was not ready to concede the match. _The gloves were off_. His keen Vulcan auditory skills picked up a sound he could use to his advantage. "Cadet Uhura, if I may speak now."

"Of course, sir."

"I believe you may soon be able to get into the bathroom. Isn't that the sound of water running?"

Having not heard it until Spock pointed it out, she was then not able to focus elsewhere. _Oh, no!_ She could feel the pressure increasing on her bladder as it responded to the sound of the flowing water. Squeezing her legs together, again, she turned and knocked on the door.

"Gaila, come out, now!"

"What?"

"COME OUT OF THERE, RIGHT NOW!"

"I can't hear you, Uhura, I've got the water running!"

Spock asked her innocently, "A problem, Cadet Uhura?"

In extreme discomfort, "My bladder is about to burst."

Enjoying a twisted sense of pleasure from her predicament, "Perhaps, you and other cadets should learn how to curb your drinking."

_Oh, God . . . . don't let me pee on myself._ "Club soda . . . I was only drinking club soda and grenadine . . . so warm in there . . . maybe I drank too much."

"All things in moderation, Cadet. To avoid similar dilemmas, you should keep this sage advice in mind."

_You are full of it, sir._ Turning back to the woman's bathroom, "GAILA!"

The door opened to the men's bathroom and a wasted, but relieved civilian man comes out. Spock started to enter when he heard her desperate voice.

"Mr. Spock, please!

Standing in the doorway, "Please, what?"

"Sir, please let me go."

"Go, where?"

"The bathroom, sir."

"There is a question of propriety."

Quickly, "Sir, there is a _need_ here that overrides any question of propriety . . . I'VE GOT TO GO NOW!"

One eternity . . . two eternities . . . three eternities . . . four eternities . . . five eternities. "All right." He stepped from the door and resumed his erect pose with hands clasped behind his back.

Uhura took a breath. She started to take a step, but then felt a tickle. She squeezed her legs together and waited to regain a little more control. Keeping her legs pressed together she then took tiny baby steps toward the bathroom. _His eyes are on me as if I'm some sort of damn sideshow attraction._

"Take your time, Cadet," he told her as she inched toward the door. "The throne awaits you."

Uhura released a deafening scream in her head as she tried to remain focused on her urgent objective. She finally found her way into the bathroom grateful she did not have to expend the energy to close the door as Spock did so for her. She turned to secure it and found something missing. She called through the door, "Where's the lock?"

"Even during my Academy days, I don't recall there ever being a working lock on that door."

Uhura gasped.

"Do not worry, cadet. I will stand guard until you have completed your task."

She voiced a weak, "Thank you, Mr. Spock."

It was not long before Spock heard a great sigh as she found relief from her torment. When she exited the bathroom, she found him not ready to relinquish the banter. "I trust all went well."

_This man is too much. _"Yes, sir . . . mission accomplished. The bathroom is free, now, so please do not let me keep you."

Spock pauses in the doorway, "No need to thank me, Cadet Uhura."

Feeling almost herself, again, she felt ready to take up the verbal challenge. "How could there be a need to do so, sir? Once I reminded you of your duty as a superior officer to see to the needs of a subordinate, proper conduct required you to act accordingly. Therefore, a thank you would have been totally inappropriate on my part." She smiled, as he could not quickly think of a fitting retort.

"Cadet Uhura, I . . ."

Smiling, "No need to thank me, sir. Glad to be able to remind you of your obligation."

Realizing retreat to be the best option, Spock closed his door as Gaila bounded out of the women's bathroom. Freshly groomed she exclaimed, "All right, Uhura, you can get in, now."

* * *

"What's up with the silly grin?" Gaila asked Uhura as she settled back in her seat on the personnel transport.

Unaware of her expression until her friend noted it, Uhura started to giggle.

In a low voice, "I know that giggle. Sounds like you're thinking about sex."

Gaila's comment only elicits more giggles.

"Tell me about it, Uhura. We've got to do something to pass this time away."

Uhura tried to get control of herself, but at the moment she felt as ridiculous as her improbable attraction to Mr. Spock. "Gaila . . ." She paused to stifle another giggle.

Drawing closer, "Yes, Uhura, I'm listening."

"If I were to tell you what I've been thinking, I may put you back to sleep. So, I think we better just let the matter rest."

"Oh, Uhura, I'm supposed to be your best friend at the Academy and you don't tell me anything."

"You're _my best friend_? Who told you that?" At first, her words shocked Gaila . . . that is, until Uhura broke out into more giggles.

Gaila playfully slapped Uhura's hand and her roommate responded with her own slap to the Orion's hand. It finally took a glare from their squad leader before they ended a flurry of childlike slaps more appropriate for school girls than Starfleet cadets.

The silly grin returned to Uhura's face. A certain revelation had not come to light until she had time to reflect on that evening at Schmaltz. _I actually got the best of Mr. Spock. I left him speechless!_ Uhura had no grand illusion she would ever have such an opportunity, again, or that she was his intellectual equal. _Few could make that claim._ Still, for the first time she did not see Spock simply as a man who looked down at her from an ivory tower for she now knew what it meant to stand to-to-toe with him and she liked it. _Damn, it felt so good!_ Gaila would not understand, but the experience was quite a turn-on. _It's so damn outrageous! I know I'm probably the furthest from his mind. I'm sure when he saw me at Schmaltz he could barely remember my name._ However, for now – Uhura was content to wrap herself up in this memory . . . an experience that moved herself closer to fully realizing herself as a woman.

Uhura sat back against her seat, comforted by thoughts of the Vulcan who she discovered was just a man after all.

* * *

Spock did not know how long he had been within his own thoughts. He opened his eyes and looked toward the chronometer. _9:23 AM . . . Fifty-three minutes had passed._ With his bedroom door closed, he assumed Jack to still be in conversation with his mother. That meant he could still afford more time for contemplation.

As he returned to his reflection on the evening at Schmaltz, Spock could not help but think of Uhura. He thought it improbable for such an opportunity to engage each other would arise again soon, since they served in different fields and regulations prohibited fraternization between cadets and officers. However, he had found the experience to be _quite stimulating. _

_Fascinating. _Spock could think of no better word to describe his illogical thought process and behavior toward her on Wednesday night. _Why did I experience jealousy, when I certainly had no claim on her affections? Why did I treat her as if she had betrayed me, when there had been no basis to do so?_ He pondered on these matters, but could offer no justification. All he knew was his thoughts of this cadet . . . _Nyota_ . . . remained with him and he was not ready to let them go. _Not yet._

As a first year student, Spock knew Uhura would be on the training mission with Pike and the other cadets of her class. The captain created a demanding and taxing exercise designed to expose any cadet without _the right stuff_ to become a Starfleet officer. And though it were illogical to do so, he said these words with a tender heart as if she stood only a breath away, "Be safe, Nyota. Come back to me."

* * *

**Author's Note: **The next chapter will be up within the next seven days. Thanks for following along. Your comments are always welcome.


	13. Chapter 13 The Lesson

**Author's Note: **I've been dealing with a bad cold for the last five days, so it took me longer than usual to post this chapter. Taking place during Uhura's first year as a cadet, Chapter 13 represents the fifth part of a multi-part flashback series that began with Chapter 9. This section primarily features Spock and Pike's son, Jack. As always, your comments are always welcome.

* * *

From a raised platform set up in an open field, Captain Christopher Pike watched as squads received their final instructions before boarding shuttlecrafts to take them to their destination for their military exercise. Pike and his assistants spent months preparing for the activity, designed to weed out more cadets from the officers training program.

Three years ago, a merchant ship accidently discovered Planet 54918 when it had to make an emergency landing and found the M-class sphere in the Copernican solar system. After making repairs to allow them to get to the nearest Starbase, the crew reported their finding to Starfleet who soon sent a team to study the planet. Although the planet had no known animal life, the atmosphere and topography proved similar to Earth and a suitable location for training exercises. Over the last year, the Academy staged several exercises for upperclassmen there and for the most part all went as well as planned. However, there appeared to be some unexplained movement of gear and touches which almost led to fights among the cadets.

Lt. Oum looked over his squad as his second-in-command, Ensign Bautista, distributed phasers and holsters to the team members: three women – Gaila, Uhura, and Tsu; and seven men – Kirk, Parker, Shinning Elk, Moretti, Jorgenson, Randolph and Dr. McCoy. Of the group, Oum decided he would need to pay particular attention to Moretti and Kirk. The lietenant noticed that on the four-hour flight to the planet, Cadet Joseph Michael Moretti said few words to any of his classmates. At one point, he overheard Randolph attempt to strike up a conversation with him, but Moretti's replies were terse and detached. Being a glib conversationalist was certainly not a requirement for being an officer. However, there was something disquieting about Moretti that gave the lieutenant pause.

In contrast, Cadet James T. Kirk proved to be a more complex individual. He could be congenial and combative . . . confident and arrogant . . . thoughtful and obstinate. The first year cadet seemed to thrive on a good fight whether through words or fists. Oum knew well of Kirk's pranks and the ire he raised with some faculty members. He would have to keep Kirk in line without making himself a target for one of Pike's_ pet students_.

To the lieutenant, Pike seemed to have a penchant for _misfits_. _After all_, _didn't Pike choose a Vulcan as his first officer? Wasn't it true the Captain even considered this alien to be his friend? _Few other Terrans could make such a claim. _Those Vulcans want to know all of your business, but they share relatively little of their own knowledge, life and customs. You just can't trust any group of people that are so secretive. _

Oum overheard Kirk question Bautista, "If I may ask, sir, why do we need phasers? According to your briefing, there aren't supposed to be any hostiles on this planet."

Bautista retorted, "Maybe we just want to give you something else to hold besides your own dick."

Jorgenson and Randolph snickered, while other squad members looked on. As Kirk prepared to let loose his verbal assault, McCoy pinched him. The doctor whispered to his friend, "The day is still young. Why don't you save it for later?"

Bautista moved boldly into Kirk's face, "Did I answer your question, Cadet?"

Kirk surprised Bautista by not backing down. He looked his superior officer directly in his eyes and showed no discomfort in his proximity. Uhura shot a look to McCoy to intercede, but the doctor stepped back to allow his dog freedom to run. "Sir, while I certainly appreciate your attention to my dick, it did not address my question. I will repeat it for you slower this time so you will fully understand – Why . . . do . . . we . . . need . . . the . . . phasers?"

Oum's voice _almost _saved Bautista from any further humiliation. "Ensign Bautista and Cadet Kirk stand down." When Kirk would not break his stance before he did, the Cadet's impudence caused Bautista to be flustered and move away. Uhura could see a slight smirk form on Kirk's face as he relaxed his body. Not enough to add a charge of insubordination, but _just enough_. Oum voiced a name to settle him, "Captain Pike designed this exercise to simulate real-life conditions. These weapons help convey that impression. Do you have any other questions, Cadet?"

"Yes, sir. Why weren't we issued communicators?"

"It's one of the few shortcomings of this planet. Its star has regular solar flare ups which interfere with all communication devices whether short or long range. So, it would be useless to carry them."

"But sir, if we apply your reasoning behind carrying phasers, shouldn't it also hold for communicators which would be standard equipment on any mission?"

"Thank you for asking, Cadet Kirk, you are quite observant. Any commander would be pleased to have someone as sharp as you as part of their crew."

"Yes, sir." Kirk recognized a snow job when he heard one, but decided to heed McCoy's earlier advice. Even Kirk knew he should not try to piss off both of the squad leaders.

Oum addressed himself to the entire team. "Our shuttlecraft is ready to board to take us to our training destination. It will take another 60 minutes of flight time."

As they began to walk the shuttlecraft, McCoy commented to Kirk, "I know exactly what you are going to say. Just the travel time there and back will take up two hours of this supposed four hour training. Plus, we were only given rations for one meal. Something's up."

Kirk quickened his step, anxious to find out what adventure was in store for them.

* * *

According to the itinerary the Captain left with Spock, the Vulcan and Pike's ten year old son, Jack, were to go to the 1:15 PM show of _Star Wars_ at a classic movie theatre not far from campus. However, it was 12:30 PM and the boy did not appear to be in the mood for such an excursion. He sat staring down at his half-eaten grilled cheese sandwich and his untouched glass of milk. Spock asked him, "Was the food not prepared to your specifications?"

"It's all right."

"Did not enough time elapse between breakfast and lunch to sufficiently allow for an increase in your appetite?"

"Huh?"

"Are you not hungry?"

"Not right now."

"I see."

"If we wrap up the sandwich and put away the milk in the refrigerator, I can eat it later. Dad told me I shouldn't waste food when there are so many starving children on Regillian VII."

"It appears that is a universal tale told to children to induce them to eat when there was no desire for sustenance. However, since I am not a parent, I do not feel bound to perpetuate that myth. I assure you, the children on Regilliam VII will not miss your sandwich. In fact, if you were to see them, you would know they are a quite hefty lot who could stand to miss a few meals." He picked up Jack's plate and the glass. "I will dispose of the sandwich, but will save the milk for another meal."

"Thank you, Mr. Spock. Grilled cheese is one of my favorite sandwiches, but I've got a lot on my mind."

Thinking back to Pike's pages of instructions he sat down in the chair beside him, "I believe the correct response is . . . Would you like to talk about it?"

Spock waited patiently while Jack readied himself to speak. "It's Mom. She wants me to return to school on Monday and tell the principal who beat me up last week."

"What did you tell her?"

"I don't ever want to go back there."

"Is that what you told your mother?"

"I told her I would think about it." His father once told him he enjoyed talking to Mr. Spock, because he could see beneath the surface of things. Jack did not understand that comment until now.

"Your earlier answer appears to imply you have already made up your mind." The boy cast his eyes downward offering no reply. Spock studied him. "Quite interesting."

Looking back up to him, "What's that Mr. Spock?"

"You remind me of a boy I knew a long time ago."

"Was he a coward, too?"

"He was afraid . . . afraid he would never be accepted by his own people. Most saw him as being _different_. While this was true, they tried to make him feel as if there was something wrong with being unlike them. This _hurt him_ . . . it hurt him to the point where he began to believe them in an attempt to ease the pain. He was angry, yet _ashamed._ He felt _so lost_."

Jack looked up to Spock and saw the ache within the Vulcan's eyes. He asked him gently, "What happened to the boy, Mr. Spock?"

"One day, he allowed the words of his mother to touch his heart."

_You are a child of two worlds._

"That acceptance and love she had for him covered the boy like a warm blanket and made him whole. He was no longer afraid . . . it was all right to be different."

Reflecting, Jack then asked, "Mr. Spock, are you the boy you're talking about?"

Rising, "Do you want to see _Star Wars?"_

The boy brightened, "Sure. Dad said it's hilarious."

"Then, let's be on our way."

* * *

Below the average height for his age, Jack almost found himself running as he tried to keep up with the brisk pace set by the towering Vulcan. Upon purchasing the tickets and entering the theatre, Spock was somewhat surprised to see many of the seats filled for such a film he believed to be of dubious quality. Pike once attempted to explain the appeal of the movie to humans, but Spock still failed to understand why the movie became a cult favorite.

Spotting several empty seats in the middle of a row, Spock led the way with Jack behind him. When Spock sat next to a woman and two children, Jack witnessed how the woman appeared startled to see him. She smiled nervously and said, "Are you a Vulcan? You don't see so many Vulcans up close like this where I come from."

With no hesitation, Spock replied, "Are you a human?"

Taken aback, "Of course, I am. You are on Earth, you know. You're the one who - "

"Come on, Dad." Jack rose from his seat. Both Spock and the woman were equally surprised at the boy's reference to the Vulcan; however, Spock's face remained unexpressive. "I want to sit closer to the screen."

Speaking to Jack, the woman asked, "He's _your_ father?"

"Everyone says we're just alike." The boy turned away and started down the aisle.

_Yes, _Spock thought as he rose and followed him, _he's very much like his father. _

* * *

As they emerged from the theatre to walk back to Spock's apartment, Jack could hardly suppress his laughter in order to speak. "Dad was right. Wasn't that the most ridiculous film you ever saw? Light sabers . . . please."

"Ridiculous certainly is an appropriate word. What scientific basis could there be for such a weapon?"

"And a Wookie with an ammunition belt?" The boy laughed.

"Wookies are and have always been pacifists. To depict them in such attire is slanderous. More proof why you cannot believe everything you see at the movies. Unfortunately, too many people confuse fiction with fact."

"Mr. Spock, do you deal with a lot of humans like that woman at the theatre? You know, people who are prejudiced."

"It is difficult to quantify. Some are better at concealing it than others."

They continue to walk for several blocks without speaking, passing through crowds of people seeking their afternoon diversions. As the number of people swelled, Spock suddenly found the hand of the boy in his. _Jack's hand . . . so cool . . . so soft. _Still, the Vulcan asked him, "Is there a reason for such as gesture?"

"I don't want to lose you."

_Trust . . . Jack trusted him. _And this thought, gave him pleasure. Of course, this was a rare sight to see a Vulcan in public holding the hand of a child. Sarek would not approve for it was not their way. Yet, this simple act _gave him pleasure._ _Perhaps, one day, _he thought, _I will be able to enjoy this same sensation with my own child_. _Perhaps, one day . . . _

* * *

_Uhura stared at the sky._

Piloted by Lenny Greenberg, the shuttlecraft sat down in a clearing of a forest. The tall birch-like trees stretched their green leaf filled limbs toward the sky, reminding Moretti of his boyhood home.

_Uhura stared at the sky._

Although it caused no one but McCoy alarm, during their flight the shuttlecraft shook a few times beyond normal tolerance levels. Greenberg told Lt. Oum, "I'll check her stabilizers and make whatever repairs are required. I'm sure she'll be ready to go when it's time for us to head back in an hour. I'll take her on a test flight to make sure."

_Uhura stared at the sky._

Oum led the squad to the other side of a hill which obscured their view of the shuttlecraft. Here, he began to give instructions for an excursion they would take into the woods.

_Uhura stared at the sky._

_The sound of the shuttlecraft lifting off . . . the sight of it moving off into the sky for its test run . . . Tsu's piercing scream as the shuttlecraft exploded in midair._

_Uhura stared at the sky._

* * *

**Author's Note: **The next chapter will be up within the next seven days. Thanks for following along. Your comments are always welcome.


	14. Chapter 14 The Only Option is Life

**Author's Note: **Taking place during Uhura's first year as a cadet, Chapter 14 represents the sixth part of a multi-part flashback series that began with Chapter 9. Occurring during a military training mission gone wrong, the members of the squad must find a way to survive with scarce supplies. The latter part of the chapter focuses on Uhura and Kirk.

* * *

Two days since the destruction of the shuttlecraft and death of pilot Greenberg, the squad was once again on the move. Thankful her stomach no longer rumbled, Uhura moved through the forest on Planet 54918 along with the other nine cadets and squad leaders, Lt. Oum and Ensign Bautista. Few spoke as it was important to conserve one's energy. Uhura's mind wandered back to the moments after the accident.

* * *

Lt. Oum spoke to the cadets as Bautista collected their allotment of rations, designed to be sufficient for only one day.

"Calculating the travel time and average shuttlecraft speed, I estimate we are between 240 to 270 kilometers from base camp. Assuming the terrain is relatively flat, we should be able to make it back to base camp in seven days."

"Sir, why don't we just stay where we are?" Cadet Randolph asked. "Won't they send out a search party for us after we don't return to base camp in a few hours?"

"That's not the way the exercise was designed, was it, sir?" Kirk interjected. "We were never supposed to make it back, today."

Oum studied Kirk, and then the rest of the squad's anxious faces awaiting his answer. He knew he had to carefully choose his next words. "Cadet Kirk is correct. The purpose of the exercise is to test your survival skills. According to plan, the shuttlecraft was to leave the site and not return for seven days. It would have been nearby in case of an emergency, but out of sight."

"Even if it will take seven days to trigger a search," Jorgenson stated, "it still seems we would be better off waiting here, then trying to walk to base camp. The human body is capable of surviving without food for several weeks if necessary."

Oum looked to McCoy. "Perhaps, doctor, you should explain the urgent need for our departure."

"If this morning's briefing was accurate," McCoy commented, "water on this planet does not lie on the surface, but 6 to 10 feet underground. Without the proper tools or equipment, we will not be able to access it. Even with rationing the water we have remaining, some of us may not be alive in seven days if we wait here."

"Any other questions?"

With somber voice, Shinning Elk asked, "Do you think we will all make it, sir?"

Oum clasped his hand firmly on the cadet's shoulder and spoke in a reassuring tone. "There is no doubt in my mind, Cadet. We'll all be back at the Academy before you know it."

"Everyone, but Greenberg, sir." Tsu reminded him.

"Yes, Cadet Tsu, everyone but Greenberg." Turning to Bautista, he asked, "Ensign, have you completed the collection of the remaining rations?"

"Yes, sir."

"You will carry the food items, while the water will be the responsibility of Dr. McCoy. The doctor will dispense the water as needed according to his discretion. All right, people, we are leaving in five minutes."

Uhura smiled at Gaila who returned it as she mentally readied herself for the journey. Uhura then walked over to Kirk. "Now, I know why Jordan kept plying me with fattening foods this week. So, when did you realize this was more than a day's exercise?"

"There were a lot of clues, but it did not come together for me until the explosion."

Surprised at the implication, Uhura tried to keep her voice down as she sought confirmation. "What are you trying to say?"

"Did you notice our squad leaders' reaction at the time of the accident?"

"No. At first, I couldn't take my eyes off of the spot in the sky where the explosion occurred."

"When I turned back, they initially seemed not to be reacting to the accident. Instead, they appeared to be observing us."

Carrying the water in thermoses in his backpack, McCoy joined them. "_Who_ was watching us?"

"Oum and Bautista. It was as if they were taking mental notes of our responses."

Uhura contended skeptically, "I don't know if I believe this is just an experiment. That explosion looked quite convincing to me."

"Damn straight." McCoy concurred. "We all saw it. Really, Jim, not even Starfleet would deliberately kill a crew member and destroy a shuttle for the sake of a military exercise."

Kirk replied, "I don't have all of the pieces to the puzzle, but I'm going to find out before this is over."

* * *

On Day 3 of their journey, Uhura noted the squad seemed in good spirits. The comfortable daytime temperatures and level terrain allowed the physically fit team to move quickly, despite their lack of adequate food and drink. After covering 1/3 of the estimated distance, some brazenly predicted they would make it to the home base well before the other squads who would have the convenience of being flown back. The thought gave all a much needed laugh.

As it grew too dark to continue, Lt. Oum gave the command for them to make camp for the evening. Most of the members sat down with crossed legs or reclined on an elbow. However, Oum and Uhura squatted. Gaila asked her, "Is that really comfortable?"

"Quite a few Terrans sit like this in Africa and Asia."

Oum added, "Keeps your ass off the ground. Why don't you try it, Cadet?"

The Orion's face read - _You've got to be kidding_ - but when his expression did not change she responded, "Yes, sir." Getting on her feet, Gaila squatted. All watched as she titled to one side, then overcompensated and tilted to the opposite side.

As Gaila's face began to turn a darker shade of green, Uhura advised, "Hey, girl, you're allowed to breathe.

Kirk decided to end her trial by nudging her body with his finger to upset her precarious balance. Even Gaila joined the others in laughter as she toppled over unto her side. Oum nodded to Bautista to pass out their ration of food and said to McCoy, "It's time, Doc."

* * *

Lt. Oum ordered everyone to bed down at a time earlier than the previous evenings. No one bothered to raise a protest. Few had spoken more than a few perfunctory words since McCoy opened his bag and found the water missing. A search of backpacks found no trace of the precious thermoses or the hopeful mood they had enjoyed. Now seeds of doubt, distrust and despair sprang up among them.

The growl of her stomach awakened Uhura. Opening her eyes, she peered into the night slightly illuminated by the light reflecting off of the two quarter moons hovering above them. Slightly raising her head, she looked about her and noted the others appeared to be asleep . . . that is, everyone but Moretti. She noted her fellow cadet rising up stealthily and going into the woods. He had taken nothing with him except what he wore, including a phaser held in a holster around his waist. She reasoned he must be going to relieve himself. _That shouldn't take long,_ she thought, _considering we'd had little more than a taste of food and no water . . . no water._

Uhura knew she had to get her mind off of what they lacked and, instead, focus on the fact they were all still relatively healthy. Lt. Oum reminded them of the progress they had made, thus far. In the morning, they planned to press on and cover as much ground as possible. He promised the cadets, "When we finally make it back to Earth, the first round of drinks will be on me." The thought lightened their mood, but only for a moment as the increasing dryness within their mouths reminded them of the dire reality of their situation.

Five minutes . . . ten minutes . . . fifteen minutes . . . now twenty minutes passed since Moretti left the camp. Taking her flashlight, Uhura got up quietly and moved in the direction he had travelled. Once she moved away from the others, she turned on the flashlight and tracked his path by searching for signs of his movement . . . trampled grass . . . freshly broken twigs . . . the occasional shoe print in soft earth. The passing of time did not deter her as she continued her search. She believed she would find him soon . . . she had to. Moretti appeared troubled before beginning this mission. _Was their current grim circumstance putting him over the edge? _She quickened her pace.

Suddenly, she heard a voice call out to her. _Kirk_.

"Uhura . . . " When he saw his voice had no effect, Kirk hurried his steps to meet her. "Hey, girl . . . can't you stop for a minute?"

She did not halt. "I have to keep going. I'm looking for Moretti."

"By yourself . . . at night . . . " Placing his hands on her shoulders, he stopped her progress.

Uhura quickly broke his hold and turned to him. "You can go back if you want to. I'm going to find him. I'm afraid . . . I'm afraid he might try to harm himself." She looked for another sign of Moretti's passage, and then continued walking with Kirk beside her.

"You know this is crazy. Going after him is putting your life in danger."

"Like the rest of the squad, my life is already in danger. But, I can't let Moretti go . . . not like this."

Unaware of how much time passed, Kirk and Uhura persisted in their mission not taking time to rest. Uhura was hopeful they would catch up to him soon . . . before it was too late. Then finally before them, the two cadets could what appeared to be a figure sitting in the center of a clearing looking up into the sky. Uhura's sigh of relief abruptly changed to horror as she saw the figure raise a phaser to his head. Kirk stifled her scream by clamping a hand over her mouth and an arm around her waist, holding her close to his body.

Uhura saw the flash of the firing phaser . . . the figure fell clumsily to its side. Kirk let her go as tears of grief and anger tumbled down her face. "How could you!" She accused him. "How could you stop me from calling out to him! I might have stopped him . . . I might have stopped him from killing himself!"

"Uhura, he's not dead."

"What do you mean?! He took a phaser blast to the head. No one could survive that!"

"Abbas vs. Starfleet Academy."

"Abbas vs. Starfleet Academy? What are you talking about?"

"Don't you remember that case in our text for our Introduction to Federation Law course? Well, actually, it was a footnote, so I suppose it would have been missed by the average student."

"Get to the bottom line, Kirk."

"Over a decade ago, the family of Cadet Matak Abbas attempted to sue Starfleet Academy when their son died due to friendly fire on a first year training mission. The court threw out the suit on the grounds the Academy could not be sued for accident occurring in a military exercise unless malicious intent could be proven. However, because of the accident, the Academy changed its policy. They only allow first year cadets to be issued phasers with a capability no stronger than a stun setting. The brass reasoned more powerful weapons could better be handled by more experienced cadets."

Uhura ran to Moretti and felt relieved when she found a pulse. She cradled his head in her lap as Kirk sat down beside her. "How long do you think he'll be unconscious?"

"Minutes . . . hours . . . I'm not sure. He'll probably have a major headache when he wakes up."

Much calmer than before, she told him, "I still don't understand why you did not let me try to stop him from shooting himself."

"Calling out to him may have caused him to run and who knows if we would have ever caught up with him."

Noticing the lightening sky, "Look, Kirk . . . the dawn is breaking. Do you think they'll wait for us?"

"Unlike you, Starfleet doesn't recognize the biblical parable of the lost sheep as a guiding principle. Oum will need to ensure the safe return of as many squad members as possible. He cannot be concerned about us until that objective is first met."

Minutes passed without a word. Then, she spoke. "Kirk, you're right about why I went after Moretti. Sometimes living one's life as a Christian doesn't quite agree with Starfleet protocol.

But I know you're not a believer and so you don't have to feel bound by that philosophy. If you leave now, you can probably catch up to the others. You'll have a chance to make it back."

"If it comes to it, you're willing to die out here with Moretti, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'm not willing to let you do that. When he wakes up, we're going to be on our way. After all, when we get home I mean to make sure Oum makes good on those drinks he promised us."

Kirk watched her face brighten just as the first rays of the rising sun caressed her face. Uhura believed he could deliver them. She did not know how, but she believed his word.

And, it was her faith in him that _warmed . . . embraced . . . . and nourished his spirit._ Kirk knew he could not fail her. To Kirk, _life_ was their only option.

* * *

**Author's Note: **The next chapter will be up within the next seven days. Thanks for following along. Your comments are always welcome.


	15. Chapter 15 Second Chance

**Author's Note: **Taking place during Uhura's first year as a cadet, Chapter 15 represents the seventh part of a multi-part flashback series that began with Chapter 9. One part of the chapter focuses on Spock and Jack, while the other concerns Uhura, Kirk and Moretti.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any part of _Star Trek_ or the song, _True to Your Heart, _of which an excerpt appears in the following story.

* * *

The sun had been up for several hours before Moretti began to stir. As he attempted to lift himself from Uhura's lap, he experienced a sharp throbbing pain in his head. Moretti heard Uhura voice and felt a cool, gentle hand stroking his hair.

"Take it easy, Moretti. Don't try to get up so fast."

He took her advice and allowed his head to rest back on her lap. Despite his self-inflicted phaser blast, the cadet was very much alive. _A failure as a husband, father, and cadet_ . . . _I can't even kill myself._

Standing above him, Kirk's commanding voice sharply contrasted against Uhura's tender tone. "Hey, Moretti, we need to get going in a few minutes." Ignoring Uhura's concerned look, he continued. "You'll need to shake it off, so we can be on our way."

Struggling against the pain, Moretti raised his body to a sitting position. "You could go on without me."

Kirk came down on one knee to look the man in the eye. "Listen Moretti, _I_ _could_ go without you, but Uhura's not willing to do the same. So, that means I've got to make sure we all get back to the home base. Do you understand me?"

Moretti looked to Uhura, who asked him, "What do you want to do, Moretti?" The caring tone of her voice confirmed Kirk's statement. She would not leave him, if he chose not to return to the home base. Although he could find no reason to live, Moretti would not be the cause of her death. He found a way to rise to his feet.

Taking charge, Kirk told them, "The rest of the group is, at least, eight to ten hours ahead of us. The time and distance differential will probably increase since we've already lost some travel time today. First, we'll head back to our squad's last campsite, then we'll follow their trail. Ready?"

"Ready." Uhura confirmed. When Moretti nodded, the trio began their journey.

* * *

With none of the first year classes that usually filled most of his Monday's schedule, Spock was able to concentrate on the research projects of his graduate students. Still, more than a few of them noticed he appeared uncharacteristically distracted.

While reviewing the progress report of one of his research assistants, his communicator sounded. "Spock, here."

"This is Mrs. Donleavy, the principal at Jonathan Archer Elementary School. Captain Pike told us you would be serving as his son's guardian while he was away on a training mission."

"That is correct."

"First, I would like to say how pleased I was that Jack returned to school, today. After last week's incident and his absence from school on Friday, I feared the family would choose to find another school for the child."

"Obviously, madam, your fears were for naught."

"Yes, Mr. Spock, and I am so glad they were. You don't know how many times I've advised parents to be patient with these matters. They usually will work themselves out and everyone involved eventually will do the right thing."

"Mrs. Donleavy, I request you focus your comments on Jack. Did he appear at ease throughout the day? Were the interactions with his classmates appropriate?"

"Things could not have gone better. As soon as Jack's bus dropped him off, he came to my office and identified the children who'd bullied him. I thanked him for being so forthcoming and sent him on to his class. All reports from his homeroom teacher and support staff have been positive regarding his behavior and dealings with his peers. And, of course, you can be assured the children who perpetrated the incident last week have been disciplined. When they return to school with their parents, we will schedule sessions with the school's social worker to ensure these children will not be involved in such incidents, again. I hope this report meets with your satisfaction, Mr. Spock." No response. "Mr. Spock, are you still there?"

Usually not at a loss for words, Spock suddenly found himself speechless. He knew the Captain will be pleased when he heard the account.

According to plan, after school Jack went to the Kowalski's apartment until Spock picked him up at 7 PM. Curiously, on the walk to the Vulcan's home, the boy's manner appeared subdued to Spock. Upon entering the apartment, Jack asked, "Mr. Spock, do you mind if I go to my room . . . I mean, the room you are letting me use?"

"Of course, you may. However, according to the schedule, you are not yet required to go to bed."

"I know . . . I just want to be alone." Jack started toward Spock's bedroom when the Vulcan's voice called to him.

"Jack." The boy turned look back at Spock who stood in his usual erect pose with hands clasped behind his back. "Before you retire, I wish to make an inquiry about human behavior."

"Yes, Mr. Spock. I guess I can try."

"The principal of your school, Mrs. Donleavy called me earlier today to report on your state of well-being. She informed me of your decision to identify your attackers, which led to their apprehension and discipline. She also reported you appeared well-adjusted with your studies and peers. Was her assessment not correct?"

"It sounds all right to me."

"Then please explain your current disposition."

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"From my experience with humans, whenever a difficult goal is accomplished, it usually results in a sense of delight, joy and sometimes even exultation. Yet, you currently appear to display a somber temperament."

"Huh?"

Spock paused for a few moments to find language the boy could comprehend. "Sadness . . . there appears to be a sense of sadness about you."

Jack lowered his head looking down at the floor. Perceiving discomfort in the boy, Spock waited patiently for him to answer. Finally, he said, "I wish Dad were here."

Spock searched his memories to find a relatable experience so he could better understand Jack's point of view. Indeed, there had been many times he had been left on Vulcan in the hands of a caregiver as his parents traveled throughout the galaxy on diplomatic missions. He could only join them when it did not interfere with the rigors of his education. Spock had known no other life, so their frequent absences never made him feel there had been something lacking in his upbringing. _The expectations and needs of human children were quite different._

"Jack. Your father asked me to be his surrogate which means I am a substitute for his parental role in his absence. Please tell me what you require." The boy did not respond.

Then Spock suddenly remembered one occasion when, at the age of 7, he won top honors in the Vulcan Junior Science Academy for his experiment on molecular orbital theory. Being the youngest student to earn such an award, this time his parents made special efforts to ensure their presence at the awards ceremony. After receiving the prize medal, he recalled how his mother got down on her knees – a particularly undignified posture to Vulcans – and hugged him_ in public_. That evening at their home, he heard raised voices with sharp, stinging tones coming from his parents' bedroom. And _weeping _. . . he was sure he heard his mother _weeping_. It was the only time he had heard them arguing . . . . arguing about _him_. Spock did not know who won or lost the argument; however, he did observe his mother thereafter learned to reserve outward signs of affection behind closed doors.

Throughout his life, Spock strove to be like Sarek - the very model of an honorable Vulcan man. However, there was something about his human mother – _Amanda_ – that resonated within him. At times, the human side seemed at war with his Vulcan persona. Yet, Spock had to admit there were moments when he felt empowered by the ability to draw what he needed from both worlds. In his body and mind, Spock was no less Vulcan than anyone else on his home planet. However, _his heart_ . . . _his soul . . . his spirit_ . . . these intangible concepts were different matters requiring further exploration.

"Jack." The boy raised as his head as Spock got down on his knees. _Undignified, but in this case, necessary. _With the child's full attention, he proceeded. "You left here this morning with the single goal of returning to school and becoming reacclimated to its routine. However, when you chose to identify your assailants, your performance exceeded expectations for the day. For such a brave act, I am very proud of you. You reminded me very much of Captain Pike."

The child beamed, "Really?! Do you really think I'm like my father?"

"Vulcans are incapable of lying or exaggeration."

A broad smile appeared across Jack's face, "Thank you, Mr. Spock."

Reaching in his pocket, "Also, it is my understanding through past conversations with your father, he sometimes provides you with some token in appreciation of a laudable deed or achievement. To that end, I asked one of my research assistants – who has a nephew close to your age – what might be a suitable gift. He suggested I purchase this." Spock opened his hand revealing a data crystal.

Becoming excited, "What is it, Mr. Spock?"

"It's a compilation of a popular male group from the late-20th century. I am told during their time, critics discredited their talents. However, according to my assistants, they are now hailed as one of the most innovative, avant garde pop musical groups of all-time. They are called 98 Degrees."

"98 Degrees! Featuring Justin Jeffre, Jeff Timmons and brothers Nick and Drew Lachey! They're like vocal musical gods!"

"I cannot confirm your last statement since I did not have the opportunity to perform my own research on the matter. Judging from your reaction, I assume you are pleased."

"Who wouldn't be! But . . . Mr. Spock, it's so expensive. When I asked Mom for it for my birthday one year, she said she couldn't afford it. I think she called it a collector's item."

"Then, it is indeed a fortuitous day for you." Spock placed the data crystal in Jack's hand.

"Let's listen to it together, Mr. Spock, and I'll tell you all about it."

With Jack as his guide through the98 Degrees songbook, Spock attempted to listen to the music with an open mind. However, from the first banal note of "True to Your Heart," he knew he was in for a long night. Still, the joy that filled the child's face _almost _made up for the agonizing minutes he spent listening to an off-key ten year old boy singing in his loudest voice:

_True to your heart  
You must be true to your heart  
That's when the heavens will part  
And baby shower you with my love  
Open your eyes  
Your heart can tell you no lies  
And when you're true to your heart  
I know it's gonna lead you straight to me_ ______________________________________________________________________________

For Kirk, Moretti and Uhura, their pace had been slower than the previous day. A lack of water led to periodic muscle cramps which required them to stop and rest more often. They knew each day their fatigued, dehydrated bodies were fast becoming a significant obstacle in meeting their daily distance goals. Also, the terrain within this part of the forest had changed from a grassy to a more stony landscape, making tracking more difficult.

When the exhausted trio finally stopped for the night, they leaned against each other's back for support after sitting down on the cool, rock strewn earth. Kirk set one flashlight pointing upward to provide some illumination of the area. In spite of their hardships and growing uncertainty of their fate, they made an effort to keep their spirits from mirroring their physical state.

Between the three of them, they had two energy bars to last as long as possible. Kirk was sure McCoy must have convinced Lt. Oum to leave the food behind in a bag the trio found when they arrived at their squad's former campsite. Handing one of the bars to Uhura, she carefully broke off three small pieces.

Kirk asked, "What's on the menu tonight?"

"Samaki wa kukaanga."

"Not cow hooves, again."

"That's amanquina. Kirk, I said nothing at all about amanquina. This is samaki wa kukaanga."

"Details . . . details."

"You make a paste of lime juice, garlic, salt, black pepper and chili powder and use it as a marinade for the fish for 20-30 minutes. Then you cook the fillets in oil until golden brown on both sides." She pops her ration into her mouth and pretends to be in ecstasy. "Oh, my . . .it's sooooooooooo divine. Mmmmmm . . . crispy on the outside, but moist and juicy on the inside."

"Fried fish. It's nothing, but fried fish. Why didn't you just say so?"

"Look, I told you we were having samaki wa kukaanga. Do you want some or not?"

"I'll take a piece." Moretti told her.

"Watch yourself, it's very hot." He opened his mouth and she fed the morsel to him on the tip of his tongue. Moretti allowed the ration to coat his dry mouth. He did not bother to swallow, since it would have just gotten struck in his throat. "Mmmmmm . . . " he played along, "It melts in your mouth."

"Thank you, Moretti. I'm glad I haven't lost my touch."

"Yeah, right." Kirk sarcastically interjected. "Hey!" He called out as Uhura punched him with an elbow.

Moretti recalled. "It reminds me of a Russian fried fish dish my wife would make."

"Katarina. That's your wife's name, isn't it?"

"That's right."

"How do you know his wife?" Kirk asked.

"The week before classes began I met Katarina while I was working in translation services during Family Weekend. The Standard Federation dialect can be a difficult language for native Russian speakers. I remember I spent a good part of a Saturday morning with her. A very attractive woman with deep blue eyes, I could never forget her."

"Yes, she is very beautiful."

"She spoke of your son, Fedya, I believe she called him."

"And what else did she tell you?" His strained voice exposed something, yet, unspoken.

Uhura gently answered. "She did not tell me anything you don't already know."

Clueless, Kirk commented, "So, Moretti, I didn't know you were fluent in Russian."

"Not really. I only know a few words."

"Well, apparently, they're the right words . . . Hey – watch that elbow!" Kirk cried out as he suffered another punch.

"I'll watch my elbow when you learn to watch your mouth. Now, go on, Moretti. Tell us about this fish dish your wife makes."

"She takes chopped herring and mixes it with an onion, bread crumbs, egg, and melted butter. After they are rolled into walnut-sized balls, it's deep fried. Not quite a healthy choice, but I've come to find out not many Russian dishes are."

Kirk commented, "Does it have another name I can't pronounce?"

"Sure, but I can't pronounce it either."

"From your description, Moretti, it sounds a lot like kotleti sledziowe, which are herring balls."

"That's right. Kotlata sledoye – that's what Katarina called it."

Correcting, "Kotleti sledziowe."

Kirk asked, "Uhura, why do you even care to keep that bit of trivia in your head?"

"Russian was one of the languages I learned as a child. Of course, one cannot fully understand a language without knowing about the history, culture and traditions from which it developed. So, each week I tried to make at least one dish from a culture other than my own."

"It doesn't seem to me as if there was anything normal about your childhood."

"So, what's normal?" When neither Kirk nor Moretti had a ready answer for her, she continued. "Yeah, just as I thought. So, James T. Kirk, you're the only one who has not eaten and your dinner is getting cold."

"Is it spicy?"

"Of course, it's spicy. Maybe too spicy for an Iowa farm boy."

"If you don't think we don't like it spicy, then you don't know anything about our Iowan delicacies - pork roast and apples, veal dumplings, loosemeat sandwiches, corn salad and _mock _pecan pie. I know just thinking about it sets your mouth on fire."

Holding the ration between two of her fingers, Uhura asked, "Are you ready for this or not?"

Leering, Kirk playfully smack his lips."Come on, baby, and give it all to me."

Looking at him warily, "I'm warning you, Kirk, if you try to lick my fingers like you did the last time we ate, I'm going to-"

"Settle down, Doris."

"For heavens sake, Kirk, don't start with the name thing, again."

"Whatever you –" He could not finish his sentence as Uhura threw his ration into his open mouth. Kirk feigned choking, but Uhura remained unmoved by his theatrics.

The trio returned to their original positions with their backs supporting each other. To conserve energy, Kirk turned off the flashlight and allowed the night to envelope them. It was here under the cloak of darkness that Moretti found his tongue.

"Uhura?"

"Yes, Moretti."

"Katarina asked you to pray for me, didn't she?"

Uhura hesitated, but then admitted, "Yes. She found out I'm a Christian and she disclosed she is also a believer."

"Funny how that came up in the normal course of conversation at an Academy event when the institution itself is decidedly areligious." Kirk commented.

"I couldn't help, but notice a small, silver cross Katarina wore around her neck. That's what initiated our discussion, Kirk."

Moretti added, "It's true. I don't remember a day she has not been without that cross. She is a woman of faith."

"Then you know she asked for prayer, because she cares about you very much."

"There so much I did not understand, not until these last few days."

"Yeah, a lot of things come clearer when your morality is staring you in the face." This time, Kirk blocks another elbow blow. "Too fast for you that time, Uhura."

"You'll have to sleep sometime, Kirk, and when you do –"

"You'll be staring at the inside of your eyelids long before I do, sister, so you can save your threat for a time you can actually carry it – " He felt a sharp jab. "Will you stop that!"

"My wife and I used to play with each other the way you two do. We were very much in love." Both Uhura and Kirk attempted to speak to clarify their relationship, but Moretti continued before they could find their voices. "When _he_ _ . . . _when _our child_ was born . . . I blamed him for taking her away from me. I was jealous of my own son, because I did not want to share her with anyone else." A breath. "I told her she would need to choose between the boy or me. When she refused to make that choice, I made it for her by joining enlisting in Starfleet." Another breath. "When Katarina showed up for Family Day, I hadn't expected her. I thought she had come to ask me a divorce, but instead she said, _I just wanted you to know how much I love you, Joe. When you're ready to come home to us, we'll be waiting for you._" He waited until he could bear to tell the truth. "I know what she wanted to hear, but I didn't want her to be with me. Not if that meant the boy had to be here, too. So, I told her to go and not to come back. I told her to go not because I didn't want her, but because I didn't deserve her."

"Oh, Katarina. How she must have suffered." Uhura wanted to cry, but her dehydrated body would not allow the tears to fall.

Sensing her compassion turn to anguish, Kirk interceded. "Is there a point to this story, Moretti? 'Cause right now I'm regretting not finding a way to leave your ass behind!"

"I'm not trying to upset anyone."

"Well, you failed at that, too!"

"Kirk, don't – "

"No, Uhura, you listen to me. Moretti said it himself, he doesn't deserve her. If it weren't for some lawsuit, we wouldn't even be listening to any of this shit from him because the problem would have already been taken care of. Why waste your time thinking about the dead!"

Silence . . . the type of silence that cuts through you like a knife as anger, regret, grief, and hopelessness filled the air. Uhura knew they could not survive . . . not like this.

Time passed. Then finally, in the darkness, Uhura reached for Moretti's hand. It was limp, almost lifeless. She said, "Moretti, I need you." She took his hand and laid it upon her lap.

In the darkness, Uhura reached for Kirk's hand. It was hardened, resistant . . . seemingly unmovable. "Kirk," she told him, "I need you."

"It wasn't supposed to be like this. It was never supposed to be a one day training. The brass designed it so it would be a survival mission that would last five, maybe six days. But Moretti's actions created a variable that wasn't part of the plan. Today, we only walked half the distance we should have covered and without water we will cover even less ground tomorrow. Damn it, I don't even know if we're headed in the right direction. When they finally get the word and send out a search party, with all of these trees blocking the view trying to find us will be like looking for a needle in a haystack."

"James –"

"Uhura, I cannot watch you die."

"James." Her voice remained calm. "I need you." He could do nothing, but yield to her tender persuasion. She took his hand and placed it on top of Moretti's hand resting on her lap. She then placed both of her hands over theirs, allowing her comfort to begin to soothe their distressed souls.

"I believe . . . I believe this is not our final resting place. God has much more work for us to do in this lifetime and He'll find a way for us to get home. I know He will."

"Uhura . . . you know I'm not a Christian."

"Then thank God, I am." She laughed and Kirk could not help, but join her. As the joy of being with her filled him, there was no longer any room for doubt and despair.

"You're insane." Kirk teased her.

"So, what are you telling me I don't already know?" she replied. "So, Moretti, what do you need?'

"A second chance." Moretti dared to request. "That is, if Katarina and Fedya will still have me."

"A second chance? Is that all?" Uhura waited for the words to come, and then she spoke. "On Earth Colony 419, there is a woman named Katarina Moretti waiting at the Mae Jemison Starport. Her auburn hair falls softly about the shoulders of her emerald green dress. By her side, her son – Fedya - lies alert in his traveler. He shares his mother's anxiousness for the impending arrival. Finally, the announcement is made that Passenger Starship Flight 25-0968 from Earth is now in orbit."

"After shuttles begin to land and passengers disembark, Katarina watches through the window of the shuttlecraft bay looking for that familiar face. Finally, she sees a man with dark hair and an olive complexion, but a bit thinner than when she last saw him. However, her heart awakens and she knows _it is him. _ He has barely exited the shuttlecraft bay when he feels her arms around him. Between her loving kisses she gives voice to the words he has waited so long to hear, _Welcome home, Joe. Welcome home."_

Still entranced by the vision Uhura has painted, he somehow managed to ask, "Uhura, do you really believe this is possible?"

"Moretti, we can surely find more nourishment in what ought to be, than what is."

* * *

**Author's Note: **The next chapter will be up within the next seven days. Thanks for following along. Your comments are always welcome.


	16. Chapter 16 Alien

**Author's Note: **Taking place during Uhura's first year as a cadet, Chapter 16 represents the eighth part of a multi-part flashback series that began with Chapter 9. One part of the chapter focuses on Spock and Jack, while the other concerns Uhura, Kirk and Moretti.

* * *

The days following Jack's identification of his attackers had gratefully been uneventful. Amidst meeting his own professional duties, Spock took care of the Captain's son according to instructions with only a few minor deviations. Jack went to bed 47 minutes, 13 seconds later than his prescribed bedtime on the night Spock dutifully, yet painfully listened with the boy to the greatest hits of 98 Degrees.

After Jack got ready for bed, Spock came to his bedside to pull the covers over the excited boy. Jack chimed, "Mr. Spock, thank you, again, for the data crystal. Wasn't that the best music you've ever heard?"

"I am pleased you enjoyed it." Although Spock did not answer the question directly, he knew the response would be interpreted in a way which coincided with the boy's own high regard for this _music_. He found that most humans seemed to spend much time talking, but rarely did they truly listen to each other.

"Do they have musical groups as good as that on Vulcan?"

Spock sat down on the edge of the bed next to Jack. "Much like that of your ancient Greek civilization, the Vulcan musical tradition is monophonic. That is, music using a single melody without accompaniment or harmony. Whereas, the vocal music of 98 Degrees illustrates a homophonic style in which chords harmonize with a leading melody or voice."

"Huh?"

"I can assure you, Jack, on Vulcan there has never been and probably will never be a group like 98 Degrees."

"I guess that's, at least, one thing we can do better than the Vulcans." The boy made the statement beaming with pride. "We can listen to all the songs, again, tomorrow night if you would like."

"Ordinarily, I would agree to your proposition; however, Captain Pike has not had a chance to listen to it with you, yet. I would not want to have two such extraordinary opportunities before your own father is able to share your delight in experiencing these _talents._"

"I suppose you're right, Mr. Spock. But, do you think he will like it? I don't know if knows as much about music as you do."

During his first tour of duty on the Enterprise, Spock recalled how the Captain had insisted he join him and other officers in the Rec Room during a particularly uneventful, long trip to deliver medical supplies to a Federation outpost. Spock endured the usual stories of "boneheaded" crew members, nonsensical policies from Federation top brass, and highly embellished tales of sexual exploits from the other officers. However, Spock distinctly remembered it was Captain Pike who inexplicably began _17 rounds _of "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall." When Pike turned to him and asked, "So, what did you think of our little ditty, Mr. Spock?"

"I believe if the practice were not outlawed by the Federation, all of you would have promising careers as torturers."

With that excruciating experience still in his memory, Spock had no trouble with suggesting to Jack, "With his sophisticated musical tastes, I am sure your father would want you to play the data crystal as soon as he arrives home. Time permitting, I am sure he may want to hear the entire collection twice in one day."

"Thank you, Mr. Spock, for everything. I'm so glad I was able to stay with you this week."

_The boy's arms found their way around Spock's torso . . . his face against his chest . . . so warm . . . so affectionate . . . so human. Was this the feeling his mother sought when she would attempt to embrace him? Was this act a signal of the initiation of a form of intimacy? Not a physical intimacy, but one which involved an emotional attachment . . . a type of bond with another person. Suddenly, he became uncomfortable with this feeling that still remained such a mystery to him._

So, it was Spock who broke from the boy's embrace and, abruptly, rose from the bed.

Confused by his reaction, Jack asked, "Mr. Spock, did I do something wrong?"

"No, of course, not. I became cognizant of the fact we surpassed your usual bedtime by an intolerable degree. If I leave the room, now, you should hopefully be able to acquire sufficient rest to perform your studies adequately, tomorrow."

"All right, Mr. Spock." The boy lay down pulling the covers to his shoulders. "Good-night."

Spock was not sure if he responded to Jack as he left the room. He reasoned the surprising discomfort he still experienced from the boy's demonstrative act must be avoided for the rest of Jack's stay. The Vulcan would be careful not to sit on his bed or be so close in proximity to the child to allow an opportunity for this human gesture to be repeated. _I am not ready. _

Leila Kalomi, his only human sexual partner, had left him years earlier due to his inability . . . his refusal to explore this type of intimacy. He loved her, but he could not tell her so. He loved her, but he could not express it as she desired. Spock told her, "I am Vulcan."

"Your mother is human."

"A biological fact, but the influence of her genes has been decidedly insignificant to my development. I am Vulcan."

"Vulcans do have feelings and I need you to let me know how you truly feel about me."

"Why should I state what should already be obvious? You are well aware of my sentiments toward you."

"That is not enough."

"I am not ready." He whispered in a voice not loud enough for her to hear. He did not want her to hear. She had gotten too close to him and he needed some distance. He pushed her back the way he pushed back his mother and now pushed back the boy. _I am not ready._

Spock made adjustments to the week's schedule to avoid spending more time than necessary with the boy. Instead of picking up Jack from the Kowalski's at 7, he would arrive closer to Jack's bedtime so there was not much time for interaction between the two in the evenings.

Finally, the weekend arrived and Spock noticed signs of the boy's anxiousness of the expected return of his father. Jack barely had eaten his usual Saturday morning breakfast of pancakes, sausage and orange juice.

Spock asked, "Jack, you appear not to be enjoying your meal. Has it not been replicated to your satisfaction?"

"I just can't wait until Dad comes back home. What time did you say we can go and meet him?"

"They should be returning at 1:00 PM."

"Are you sure, Mr. Spock?"

"That was the posted itinerary; however, if you would like me to check for updates –"

"Would you, Mr. Spock? Would you, _please_?"

"I will do so, if you eat a greater portion of your breakfast."

"Just watch me, Mr. Spock. I'll eat it in no time!" The boy began to cram large portions into his mouth.

"Jack. I used the verb _eat_, not _inhale._ Please reduce your pace to a more acceptable level."

"Mmmm . . . hmmm." Jack sounded with his full mouth.

Spock logged into his computer, and then entered his password for Starfleet's military frequency. He could easily download the cadet training itinerary to confirm their estimated time of arrival. However, when he connected to the Starfleet site, he unexpectedly found an alert. _A delay in departure from Planet 54918 . . . search on for three missing cadets . . . Joseph Michael Moretti . . . James T. Kirk . . . Nyota Uhura._

Spock reread the message three more times, stopping each instance on her name. _Perhaps, there was an error . . . she could not be in danger . . . how could she and the other two cadets become separated from their squad?_

"Mr. Spock, is Dad still going to get back at 1:00 PM?"

"There's been a delay." The Vulcan spoke in a calm voice which did not betray his concern. "Several cadets have been reported missing and the search for them has resulted in the postponement of their anticipated departure. Does this news significantly disappoint you?"

After a few moments, the boy spoke. "I want Dad home, but I'm glad he's in charge out there. He'll find them, Mr. Spock, I know he will."

The Vulcan did not expect a boy to provide comfort, but he did. Jack was very much his father's son.

"You know what, Mr. Spock?" Jack continued, "That means we'll have more time to spend together. What do you want to do, today?"

"Since I have assumed the role of the caregiver, would that not be a question more appropriate for me to ask of you?"

"You've been working so hard all week. I thought maybe you'd want to do something fun."

"Having fun is rarely an objective of choice for me."

"There must be something you do to have fun."

"There are pursuits I enjoy, such as, reading, research, the arts . . . " Spock discontinues his list when the boy shakes his head disapprovingly.

"That's not the same thing as having fun. When you're having fun, you're just having fun! Do you get it, now, Mr. Spock?"

"Perhaps, it would be best if you were to choose the activities, today, which best demonstrate this concept."

"Huh?"

"Show me how to have fun."

"Really, Mr. Spock! You want to have fun with me?"

"Yes, I am willing to take part in this endeavor."

"Well, all right . . . let's go!"

"Not yet, Jack." His voice stopped the boy who had headed for the door. "I believe you have, yet, taken care of your personal hygiene needs. To the bathroom with you."

"Oh, Mr. Spock, sometimes you are just like, Dad."

The Vulcan had no idea what the day held for him. However, he believed such a diversion would help to keep his attention from being focused primarily on the search for which he could offer no assistance. His communicator could be used to obtain periodic updates while he would occupy himself with this boy . . . a boy he sought to avoid for most of that week. In just the minutes they had this morning, the Vulcan began to feel a thin layer of the reserve he determinedly built up suddenly began to slip away. _Fascinating._

Moretti, Kirk and Uhura sat with their backs to each other for support. Neither one was sure how close they were to the home base. Perhaps, they were actually further away than when they had started their journey. They could not gauge their progress, since the thick trees obscured their view.

They had planned to rest for only ten minutes, but their painful, dehydrated limbs appeared unwilling to continue their trek. Of the three, Moretti's physical condition seemed to be declining more rapidly. Back at the Academy, his depressed mental state suppressed his appetite and led to a reduction in muscle and weight which would have aided his survival. Still, the three attempted to keep their spirits up believing by now officers and able-bodied cadets were searching for them. If they could just hold on long enough . . .

Speaking barely above a whisper, the trio tried to keep their minds alert. Uhura asked, "Hey, Moretti, what do you want for dinner?" To play this game, they now had to rely totally on their imagination, since they had eaten the last of their energy bars two days ago.

"Bagna càuda . . . Mama used to make it on cold days like today."

The day was as warm as it had always been, but both Uhura and Kirk could feel Moretti's body trembling against theirs. "Well, you're in luck, Moretti." Uhura told him, "That's just what I made."

"What is it?" Kirk questioned.

"Hot sauce."

"Can't we at least have a cheese burger and fries?"

"It's not just hot sauce. It's a dip made of garlic, anchovies, olive oil and butter. We cook the sauce in a pot and then dip roasted vegetables in it."

"Do you have artichokes and cauliflower?" Moretti asked.

"I've got that and more . . . some carrots, peppers, fennel, celery and onions. Now watch yourself when you dip into the pot. It's very hot."

"Mmmmmmm . . . benissimo!"

"Grazie, mio amico." She looked to Kirk. "So, what do you think?"

"I still rather have the burger and fries."

"Barbaro."

"Look, Uhura, if you're going to insult me, could you at least do so in a language I can understand?"

"She's speaking in the language of love." Moretti contented.

"I'm sure just now Uhura did not call me a word of endearment and, anyways, I thought French was the language of love."

"What do the French know? They only know about the show of love, not the passion behind it. For that, it helps to be Italian. Why do you think the first known romantic relationship between a human and alien involved an Italian man?"

"Are you talking about Girodano and the Andorian? Come on, man. If it weren't for that pop song about it, the whole incident would just be a footnote in history."

"Who is Giordano?" Uhura asked.

"An Under Secretary in United Earth's diplomatic corps during the late-22nd century." Kirk continued. "Giordano served as one the negotiators for the initiation of the Federation. After one particularly caustic meeting hosted by the Tellarites, he was last seen boarding and then piloting a small ship which included only one passenger - a woman named Shy'lan from the Andorian delegation. According to his flight plan, they were on their way to a Bajoran space station, presumably to try to work out some of the more contentious details of the negotiations. However, the ship never arrived."

"Were they ever found?"

"No. There was no trace of them or the ship. Of course, there were quite a number of conspiracy theories. But, leave it to the Italians to write a song about the incident which imagines a torrid love affair between the two diplomats which led to a scheme to reject their official duties in order to build a new life for themselves on an uncharted planet."

"In Italian the song was called, 'Il Mio Amante Blu.'" Moretti added in a weak voice.

"My Blue Lover." Uhura translated.

"And their romance was not an invention." Moretti attempted to argue. "It was true . . . we know it was . . ." Kirk and Uhura felt his body slump against them. The two carefully lay him down on the ground. She then placed two fingers against his carotid artery.

"He has a pulse, but it's very weak." Uhura closed her eyes. Kirk noticed her lips moved and knew she was probably in prayer.

When it appeared she had ended it, he inquired, "Not that I think it will really make a difference, but what did you ask for?"

"The cavalry."

Kirk and Uhura sat without speaking letting time pass by. Moretti would not be able to last much longer if not rescued soon. His still, lifeless body served as a stark reminder of their own bleak fate.

Uhura's mind began to wander. She first thought about the little things: Were they ever going to have raspberry yogurt at the cafeteria as she had repeatedly requested? In her dorm bathroom, had she forgotten to place the cap back on the toothpaste? Was the _new _diet Coke actually better tasting than the former one?

Then, Uhura saw the faces of her Baba, Bibi and the dozens of relatives that were important part of her formative years. Her thoughts then drifted to the month-long trip she scheduled this summer with the precious ones – Shaniqua, Yasmin and Habibah. It would be the only lengthy vacation she could take during her training at the Academy. Having planned it herself to take place off a small Grecian island, they were to spend their time doing absolutely nothing but soak in the sun, eat whatever they pleased, and play bid whist (an addictive card game Shaniqua taught them that was supposedly very popular among African Americans – that is, those who did not fool themselves into thinking _spades_ was more challenging). She smiled just thinking about the fun they would have, if she could just hold on long enough . . .

And then the Vulcan came before her mind's eye. Emerging from her memory, Mr. Spock appeared to her as when she first noticed him strutting across campus on his way to class. _Tall, with a lean, muscled physique . . . not a black hair on his head out of place . . . a fine, strong, classical looking face with no sign of a blemish . ._ . But now, not even those large pointy ears or the green tint to his skin seemed so strange. Then more memories of Mr. Spock filled her mind - when his words embarrassed her in front of her "Introduction to Vulcan" class and the peculiar meeting they had outside the bathrooms of a bar called Schmaltz. She smiled when she recalled how she had evened the score during the last incident.

_Baba would not approve._

Then, as suddenly as he had come into view . . . he seemed to vanish and she did not know how to bring him back to her. And, even though she was not alone, for the first time in her life she felt _lonely._

Uhura broke the silence. "Kirk?"

"Yeah."

"You're a very experienced guy, aren't you? I mean . . . I'm just not talking about sex . . . I guess I'm talking about romantic things."

"Romantic things?"

"Romance . . . maybe, even love."

"Well, you're a big girl. Don't you know about romantic things?"

"This is different. I hear you've had a few experiences with alien women."

"A few."

"Have you ever thought you could get serious about any of them? I mean . . . do you think that's possible?"

"Why are you asking about that? Does it have to do with that ridiculous Giordano and Shy'lan myth? That they went off together and lived happily ever after like some fairy tale?"

"We're just talking. What else do we have to do right now?" After a few moments, she asked him, again. "Do you think it would be possible for a human and alien to have a romantic relationship?"

Kirk reflects a few moments to give a more thoughtful response. "I think there's quite a deal to overcome for that to happen. There are usually substantial differences in culture and background. Also, physiologically speaking - for the most part, humanoid species have similar equipment. However, there could be differences in body color, texture, taste, temperature, genital size, erogenous zones, secretions, and behaviors - likes and dislikes that may seem perverted to another species."

"TMI."

"So, if it is not recreational sex – which I know you're not into – then you're probably more compatible and, therefore, better off with someone of your own species if romance is what you – "

Kirk did not see the disappointment on her face for something had suddenly taken his attention. As a familiar humming sound played overhead, he struggled to his feet and tried to peer past the trees that obstructed their view.

"Kirk, what is it?"

"Shhhh – " He quieted her and listened until the sound faded away. "Didn't you hear it?"

"Hear what?"

"It's daylight, but they can't see us for all the damn trees."

"James, what is it?"

"The cavalry."

* * *

**Author's Note: **The next chapter will be the final part of this flashback series which started with Chapter 9. Hopefully, it will be posted by the end of the week. Afterwards, I will get back to more direct Spock/Uhura interactions. Your reviews are always welcome.

**Translations:**

Baba – father

Bibi - grandmother

barbaro - barbarian

benissimo – very good

Grazie, mio amico. – Thank you, my friend.


	17. Chapter 17 Rescue

**Author's Note: **Taking place during Uhura's first year as a cadet, Chapter 17 represents the final installment of a nine-part flashback series that began with Chapter 9.

Captain Pike and his field officers stand before a virtual screen showing a map of the training area.

Lt. Baker summarized search efforts. "At 0740 hours, Lt. Oum and his squad arrived in base camp and reported three cadets missing – James Kirk, Joseph Moretti, and Nyota Uhura."

"All three walked away from camp during the evening of the third day of the training. For the record, Ensign Bautista and I had nothing to do with their unexpected disappearance." Lt. Oum added. "Obviously, their actions have proven them not to be worthy candidates as Starfleet officers."

"Lt. Oum," Pike sternly told him, "our full attention needs to be directed toward the search and rescue mission. There will be plenty of time for a full investigation of this matter once we safely secure our people. Lt. Baker, you may continue your report."

"Assuming all three cadets are still together have survived until this point, we have calculated their location within this area with a radius of 40 kilometers." Baker highlighted a circular area on the map. "At 0830 hours, three shuttlecraft and four squads on foot were dispatched to search this area. As of 1623 hours, there have been no sightings of the missing cadets."

Pike asked, "Have the search parties covered the entire target section?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then we will need to broaden the search area to a radius of 80 kilometers."

"Sir." Lt. Orblych interrupted. "Our shuttlecraft have primarily been useless on this search due to the density of the foliage. Moreover, search teams are mainly comprised of cadets already exhausted by this week's training. To prolong the search may incur more casualties than what we've already – "

"Sounds more like a search and recovery mission, rather than a search and rescue task force." Dr. McCoy interrupted the lieutenant as he joined the officers. Gaila and other members of the squad followed on the doctor's heels.

"McCoy you are way out of line." Lt. Oum reprimanded him. He turned to Pike, "I'm sorry, sir. These _cadets_ are members of our squad and, even, their concern for the welfare of their fellow cadets does not excuse this behavior."

Ignoring Oum, McCoy spoke directly to the CO. "Captain Pike, I apologize for the outburst, but we were told we could help with the search after we rested and had something to eat. Well, we had _enough vacation_ _time_ hours ago, but have still been denied permission to join in the search."

"You are obviously too emotionally involved to be effective, McCoy." Oum countered. When that happens it clouds your judgment and increases the likelihood of making mistakes that could prove fatal."

"Captain Pike – you and I both know that is hogwash. Being passionate about something is not a detriment. What good thing has ever been accomplished without passion?"

"Please, sir," Gaila added, "let us join the search for our friends."

As other squad members began to assert their agreement, Pike quieted them with his commanding voice. "That's enough." He turned to his officers, "Lt. Baker, you will assume the position as CO and expand the search area to a radius of 80 kilometers. Organize more teams, including one to be headed by Lt. Orblych and comprised of Lt. Oum's former squad."

The cadets thanked Pike and beamed with satisfaction.

"Not you, McCoy."

"Sir?"

"I'm piloting a shuttlecraft and you're coming with me." Pike turned once more to the entire group. "All right, people, you all have your orders. Let's go." Pike began to head toward the shuttlecraft. McCoy hesitated and then hurried to catch him.

"Captain Pike, I thought I might be more useful on the ground with the rest of my squad."

"What good thing has ever been accomplished without passion? Isn't that what you said? It only seems reasonable I would want a man of passion to join me. I also hear you're a damn good doctor."

"But, sir –"

Pike opened the door of the shuttlecraft and proceeded inside. "Come along, McCoy."

"I need a medical kit, sir."

"It's already equipped with one, McCoy, you should know that." Pike checked his flight plan and prepared the shuttlecraft for takeoff. McCoy strapped himself tightly in his seat.

"Did you hear anything else about me, sir?"

"You mean the story that you joined Starfleet but have a fear of flying?"

"It's not a story, sir, it's true."

"Well, I can cure you of that." Pike applied full thrusters and sped away as McCoy gripped his arm rests and tried not to think of all the ways the aircraft could crash.

What did it mean to _have fun_ with a ten year old human boy? At the beginning of their day, the Vulcan side of Spock thought he, perhaps, agreed to this diversion too quickly as way to not dwell on Cadet Uhura's fate. However, another side of him – perhaps, the human side – was curious as to what this day would entail. He doubted it would resemble anything like his own childhood activities and he soon found out his assumption was correct.

Having fun with Jack meant playing a game of phaser tag with the boy and several of his school friends at Virtual World. The establishment used fledgling holodeck technology to simulate a cave-like environment full of tunnels and crevices. Although the youth outnumbered him 4 to 1, Spock took little time in neutralizing his competition. The Vulcan's abilities with a phaser delighted Pike's son, but his friends were not amused. One of them sourly told Jack, "We're going to another holedeck room. It's no fun when you don't have a chance of winning."

After the children left, Spock asked Jack, "Did my quickness in ending the game inhibit the ability to have fun?"

"Naw, they're just poor sports. I had fun, didn't you?"

"How will I know when I have experienced this emotion?"

"I don't know . . . Just look at me." Spock noted the boy's smiling face. "Doesn't it look like I'm having fun?"

"Would it please you to play this game, again?"

The boy studied Spock carefully as if assessing the effectiveness of the activity on a Vulcan subject. "I think we better try something else." Jack concluded.

Having fun with Jack meant going to the Joe DiMaggio Sports Park to watch the boy spending time in an enclosed area called a batting cage. Wearing a protective helmet and with bat in hand, the boy attempted to hit baseballs with a declining degree of success as the velocity increased.

As Jack took a break, Spock observed, "You do not appear to be meeting your objective of having fun. Your face displayed signs of anxiety and tension not associated with the appearance of pleasure you demonstrated earlier at Virtual World."

"I don't know what is wrong with me, today. I can't seem to find the sweet spot."

"Please define this term, the _sweet spot_."

"I don't know. I wish Dad were here to tell you. It's kind of hard to explain."

"I have grown accustomed to deciphering human colloquial language."

"Huh?"

"Please try tell me what the term means to the best of your ability."

After pausing for what seemed to be an eternity to Spock, Jack told him, "The sweet spot is the place on the bat that makes the ball go the farthest when it hits the bat."

"I see." After pausing for what seemed to be an eternity to Jack, Spock commented, "This appears to be a two-dimensional physics problem involving rigid body dynamics. To solve it, we will need one moment equation and two force equations – "*

"Mr. Spock," the boy interrupted, "we're supposed to be having fun, not do any homework. All I want to do is learn how to hit the baseball when it comes real fast at me."

Spock studied Jack carefully as if assessing the value of remaining at this task in pursuit of _having fun_. "All right. I will join you in the batting cage and provide instruction."

"Will you _really_, Mr. Spock?"

"I will do the _homework_ for you, but you will need to be a willing participant in our tests to improve your batting performance."

"OK, Mr. Spock, whatever you said, I'll do it."

The pair experimenting with stances, grips, and contact on various parts of the bat. After 2 hours and 45 minutes, Jack could consistently hit a 50 mph ball and he was _having fun_ doing it.

Having fun with Jack meant laying on one's back on the cool grass of a city park.

After several minutes of looking up at the sky, Spock asked, "What is the purpose of this activity?"

"We're identifying the clouds."

"In that case, most are obviously cumulus humilis, although there are some specimens to the east that can be classified as cumulus fractus."

"Mr. Spock, remember we're not doing homework. We're supposed to be having fun."

"Please demonstrate how this exercise will lead to this desired effect."

"Do you see the cloud almost straight above us?"

"Yes, I do."

"It's a ship. Not a starship, but a huge sailing ship . . . The crew must be in the galley eating their dinner, because you can only see one sailor. Do you see him, Mr. Spock? He's in the wheelhouse steering the ship."

"What is their destination?"

"Wherever the wind will take them."

_A crew that trusts their fate to something as capricious as the wind? _Spock thought. _They are certainly not Vulcan._

"Look, Mr. Spock." The boy continued. "I think the crewman sees us. He's waving at us." The boy raised his arm and waved toward the cloud. "The ship is moving on now. Off to a new adventure."

Spock noted how the child's voice held a note of sadness . . . as if the object he envisioned was more than just a product of his imagination. Vulcan children were not allowed such _decadent _activities. To participate in such a pastime that fostered leaps into the fantastic for one's own enjoyment would be subject to ridicule. _Sarek would not approve_.

"Your turn, Mr. Spock. What do you see?"

The Vulcan searched the sky, looking for a familiar image or shape that would spark a fanciful thought. Time passed . . . and _she_ came to mind. Time passed . . .Spock wondered if they had found _her_, yet. Time passed . . . and he became increasingly _fearful for her safety._

"It's all right if nothing comes to you, Mr. Spock." Jack gently offered. "You can come aboard my ship and play."

_Jack was, indeed, his father's son._

Although Kirk and Uhura could no longer hear the sound of shuttlecraft overheard, they knew they had to find a way to bring attention to themselves to hasten their rescue. With Moretti lying unconscious on the ground, the pair knew not one of them may be able to survive another night. Standing on tired and painfully dehydrated limbs, they spoke with urgency.

Uhura commented, "If these trees weren't in the way, they would be able to see us."

"Maybe there's a way to clear the view."

"How? All we have are the clothes on our back and these phaser weapons that have been absolutely useless." She removes the phaser from her belt." From what you've said, the brass have made sure its energy cannot be used as a destructive force."

Kirk pondered the problem for a few minutes and suddenly demanded, "Let me have your phaser and Moretti's, too."

As she complied, Uhura asked, "What do you want those for for?"

"The phasers aren't lethal within normal settings; however, there is nothing they could do with the design to prevent them from being set to overload. Using all three may create the blast we need for our rescue."

"An overload has to be set manually. There's no way someone can do it and get away fast enough not to get caught up in the explosion."

"Sixty seconds. After triggering the overload, it takes 60 seconds for it to reach its critical stage. I can set them and get safely out of the way before the explosion."

"How are you going to do that? You can barely walk as it is."

"I've got this, Uhura."

"Kirk – " She clutched his arm. "This is too dangerous. The others will find us soon enough."

Kirk nodded toward Moretti. "Are you willing to take that chance?"

Uhura released his arm, but firmly advised him. "After you set the overload, you haul your ass out of there. Do you hear me?"

"I love it when you talk dirty like that. Say it, again, Priscilla."

"Kirk!"

The Iowan left her with his boyish grin and mustered the strength to put enough distance between his fellow cadets and the blast site.

Sitting down next to Moretti, Uhura took up his hand and held it between hers as she kept her eyes fixed on her friend until she could no longer see him amongst the trees. _Please, God, protect him, _she prayed.

Time passed . . . several high pitched sounds . . . she suddenly saw Kirk hurriedly trying to move toward her, but then he tripped and fell against the ground.

Uhura scream's for him was drowned out by three loud booming sounds following each other in quick succession. She covered Moretti's body with her own as the tremendous force of the explosion fell trees and sent debris flying in every direction.

"What the hell was that?" Pike said at the controls of the shuttlecraft as he and McCoy witnessed the sudden creation of a clearing within the thick forest.

"It's a shout-out by Jim – I mean, Cadet Kirk." The doctor laughed. "It's his way of saying he's ready to go home."

"I'm ready for that homecoming, too. Let's go get them." The captain turned the shuttlecraft sharply and dove down into the clearing as McCoy tried desperately to keep his lunch from coming up into his mouth.

1:37 AM, Sunday – Spock sat with an anxious and wide-awake Jack waiting for the ships to return from their training exercise. The Vulcan had tried to reason with the boy it would be best if he kept his schedule and went to bed at his regular time. His father could pick him up in the morning after he had a chance to rest from this taxing mission. However, Jack insisted he meet his father as soon as he arrived and Spock did not make much of an effort to change his mind. The boy would soon be reunited with his father and, perhaps, the Vulcan would have an opportunity to see _her_.

According to preliminary reports, Captain Pike found Cadets Moretti, Kirk and Uhura severely dehydrated, but alive. Spock did not know, yet, how they had gotten separated from their squad. However, he was sure there must be a legitimate explanation, especially in regards to Cadet Uhura.

"Look, Mr. Spock." Jack exclaimed. "The ships look like they're about to land. Let's go meet them!"

As the ship made preparations for landing, McCoy and two medics checked on the three patients one last time. Emergency transport awaited them, as well as, a fresh medical team which would take over from the tired, stubborn doctor who refused to relinquish primary care responsibilities until these conditions were met.

"Gaila, I don't need any more lip balm!" Uhura complained.

"Yes, you do. If you'd only look in a mirror, you would know what I mean."

"After seven days of little food and water, I knew I wasn't ready to enter the Miss Universe contest. That's why I'll be avoiding all reflective surfaces for the next few weeks. However, I don't need you fussing over my appearance like this."

"Well, I refuse to let my best friend at the Academy leave this ship looking like shit. Now, shut up and let me get at those unsightly lips."

Uhura could do nothing, but let the Orion continue her treatments. She had been as skilled as Kirk at smuggling contraband items on the trip. Although in a wheelchair and hooked to an IV, Gaila tireless ministered to Uhura when McCoy was not checking her vitals. She brushed dirt from her hair, applied ointment to blisters and bruises, smoothed moisturizing lotion on dry skin, and put balm on her parched lips.

"When they release you from the Medical Treatment Facility," Gaila continued, "I'll strip you down and give your body the full rejuvenation regime."

"Can I help?" A heavily sedated Kirk managed to say from his gurney. The cadet barely escaped with his life from the explosion, although the resultant debris caused lacerations on his back and thighs. Still, his serious injuries seemed to have little effect on his lascivious nature.

"Kirk, I'm feeling too good and too proud of you to respond with the sort of smart ass answer that comment deserved." Uhura responded. "My gift to you is to grant you one week to let you be free of tongue with no repercussions."

"That's no fun."

"Don't worry, Kirk. After your grace period, I'll be sure to come back at you with the kind of verbal smackdowns that you live for."

"Can't wait." The Iowan's voice trailed off as McCoy injected another dose of sedative in Kirk's body.

"Too much talking." The doctor commented as he made his way to Uhura's side. "Shoo!" He told Gaila as he waved her off."

"I'll see you in the morning, Uhura. Hopefully, _these quacks_ won't keep you in the MTF too long."

"Thanks, girl." Uhura replied as Gaila joined the rest of the cadets readying to disembark. "Leonard, what about Moretti?" She nodded toward the still unconscious cadet being attended by one of the medics.

Pike joined them as McCoy responded. "We won't know until we're able to run tests, but I can tell you it was not a moment too soon for us to get to him."

"James saved our lives."

"From what I could gather from the demolition expert over there," Pike indicated toward Kirk, "it seems Cadet Uhura that you had a lot to do with saving lives, too, throughout your ordeal."

"Knowing Kirk, I'm sure he's exaggerated. He has a penchant for –"

Pike interrupted her. "Dr. McCoy, if you will excuse us."

"Of course, sir." McCoy moved to tend to Moretti, but kept his ears tuned into their conversation.

"Sir, did I say something wrong?" Uhura asked Pike.

"Would you characterize yourself as an ambitious person?"

Although a little taken aback by his question, she answered forthrightly. "Yes, sir, I am ambitious. My aim is to be a Starfleet officer."

"Ambitious, yet, your objective is just to be a Starfleet officer."

"Isn't that enough, sir?"

"Now, that's where you can take some lessons in self-promotion from Kirk over there. He joined the Academy with sights on nothing less than the captain's chair of a starship."

"I want to be a bridge officer, sir, heading up communications."

"Then say so. We're not supposed to call attention to these matters, but you don't have to be very observant to see that Starfleet command positions are still dominated by men. I'm trying to change that."

"I'm glad to hear that, sir, but I just didn't want to appear immodest."

"Cadet, there is no room in the military for humility and, especially, not for someone who wants to rise as high as her aspirations will take her."

"Yes, sir."

Lowering his voice, "Now you listen to me, because I may not have another opportunity to share this word of advice. Regarding the military exercise, the facts are that you, Kirk and Moretti walked away from your squad without permission from your squad leader. According to regulations, this incident must be brought before the Academy Board for review. They have the power to send you home or exonerate you and, perhaps, recommend a commendation. If your objective is for the latter to take place, you need to begin thinking of modesty as a vice, not a virtue. Let the panel know of your intentions for leaving the unit. Do not hesitate to inform them of what efforts you made to keep up the trio's resolve once separated from the squad and how that increased the prospects for your survival. Is this strategy clear to you, Cadet Uhura?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Uhura felt relieved when Pike left her and moved on to consult with McCoy about Moretti's condition. She never remembered being praised, spanked and schooled all at the same time and it would be a while before she could truly reflect and act on everything he had to say. However, one thought did come to her mind. _Captain Pike wants me to succeed and I'm not going to disappoint him or myself._

Spock brought Jack to the rear of the ship. He knew the Captain would be disembarking from the Medical Evac exit, since he would want to ensure the departure of the injured cadets to MTF. "We must be patient," he cautioned Jack. "They will remove the injured, first, before your father will present himself."

As expected, medical teams brought out Moretti first and sped away in a SkyAmbulance. Spock found himself taking a breath, when a medic and Dr. McCoy next emerged with Kirk (not Uhura) and quickly departed in another SkyAmbulance.

Spock tried to remember his own advice to Jack to be patient as Captain Pike next made his way down the ramp.

"Dad!" Jack shouted.

Pike barely reached the bottom of the ramp, when he found the ecstatic boy in his arms. "Shouldn't you be in the bed, young man?"

"I couldn't wait to see you. So much happened this week!"

Pike placed the boy back down on his own feet. "Jack, I still have a few things to take care of, so you'll have to go back with Mr. Spock and I'll pick you up later in the morning."

"Oh, Dad, can't I stay with you?"

Pike suddenly remembered the years Jack's mother had raised him alone. "You'll probably become bored to tears or fall asleep before I'm ready to go, but you can stay."

"Hooray!" The boy jumped up and down.

"Hey . . . hey, calm down. Too much energy so early in the morning." He turned to his friend. "Thanks, Spock, for everything. Jack was obviously well cared for."

"Mr. Spock was the best, Dad!"

"All right, son, turn it down just a little more." To Spock, "That's what happens sometimes when they get really tired. Kids get all wired up before the crash."

Ordinarily, Spock would have asked the Captain for a further explanation of the dynamics of Terran child behavior, but something else remained at the forefront of his mind. "Sir, I believe Cadet Uhura was listed as one of the injured; however, I have not seen her disembark, yet."

"Oh, yes. She will be right down. She had to . . . " Noting Jack's presence, he decided to carefully choose his words. "Right before she was to come off, she realized she had to take care of a feminine need."

"Mom calls it her minstrel period, Dad."

"That's _menstrual_ period, son."

Jack giggled, "Oh, yeah – right."

Spock recalled how he once discovered strange looking white, but soft products in his parents' bathroom. He was intrigued, since he had never seen such items in any shop on his home planet.

When he brought the products to his mother, she laughed and explained their purpose and added,"Vulcan women do not use such items, because they take injections to inhibit their blood flow. Human females subjected themselves to a similar practice for many years. Then, about one hundred years ago, there was movement that called for a more natural way of dealing with this issue. Although Vulcans tend to find it quite distasteful, we feel it is a healthier approach for our particular physiology."

Back on the ship, Uhura bemoaned the fact the stress of the last week probably lay at the cause of her period starting a week earlier than expected. After receiving assistance from a female medic, she finally was ready to disembark. As one of the medics positioned her wheelchair at the top of the ramp, she looked below and . . . _Oh, no . . . it can't be. _Unfortunately, her eyes were not deceiving her as Mr. Spock stood below along with Captain Pike and a child who seemed to resemble the senior officer. As she moved down the ramp, Uhura was suddenly grateful Gaila had spent so much time on her appearance . . . although _surely, I probably still look like shit._

The Vulcan's cool demeanor did not betray the relief he felt as he finally saw her. As she descended the ramp, Spock gave himself permission to breath, again.

"Cadet Uhura," Pike spoke first as he indicated the SkyAmbulance. "I believe your chariot awaits you."

Before she could thank him, the pilot came toward him from his aircraft. "Captain Pike, we'll be delayed for a while as I await word that the SkyPad at the MTF has cleared and can receive us."

"Her injuries are not life threatening, so speed is not as critical as it was for the other two." One of the medics added. "These delays never last very long, but we can arrange for ground transportation if you prefer, sir."

Pike turned to Uhura and said, "I believe that should be your decision, Cadet Uhura."

"I can wait. I am not made of sugar, sir. I'll wait out here until it's time to leave." Hearing this, the medics joined the pilot in the SkyAmbulance to await their orders.

"I'm not sure if you've met Mr. Spock. He's served with me as a bridge officer for two tours of duty and heads our Physical Sciences Department at the Academy."

Pike noted Spock and Uhura seemed to hold each other with their eyes a little longer than expected, before she spoke, "I've never taken any of Mr. Spock's classes since my main course of study is not in his field. However, it is not the first time we've had the occasion to meet."

"What about me, Dad?" Jack interjected.

"Cadet Uhura, this is my son, Jackson Grant Pike. We just call him Jack."

"You didn't have to tell me, sir. Jack, you're a mirror of your father."

"Thank you, Ms. Uhura, I think."

"It was definitely meant to be a complement."

"I'm glad you're all right, Ms. Uhura. All day Saturday, Mr. Spock checked his communicator for updates on the search and rescue mission."

The boy's comments did not have a chance to affect Uhura as the Vulcan quickly added, "I simply demonstrated the expected concern of anyone associated with the Academy regarding the security of it resources."

_Of course, _Uhura thought, _there I was lost on Planet 54918 and thinking about him like a love-sick school girl, while he's equating me with a piece of lost property._

"Do you mind if I ask you a question?" Jack asked her.

"Go right ahead."

"What do you like better – tampons or pads? Because my mother –"

"Jack!" Pike spoke sharply. He took a breath and counted to three under his breath. Using a calmer voice, he placed his hands on Jack's shoulders and began to steer him away. "Let me find you a place to sit down until I finish up."

"Did I say something wrong? Mama said she like pads because she says they're more comfortable."

"Enough with the pads and tampons already. Let's go."

As they walked away, Uhura tried to regain her composure. _Just how many people know I'm on my period!_

"Most recently, we encountered each other at Schmaltz."

Grateful Spock changed the subject, she replied, "Yes, that's correct." Yet, she wondered why he recalled that particular incident."

"I believe you were warbling with some young man engaged in that dubious entertainment form known as karaoke."

Her gratitude was unexpectedly short-lived. "_Warbling_?"

"You possess a fine tonal quality, but perhaps that was not such an appropriate choice of song for someone of your range."

"Sir?"

"Someone of your talents may have chosen something a bit more challenging as a solo artist, instead of a duet with _that cadet_."

"His name is Thibodeaux . . . Cadet Marcus Thibodeaux."

"I am well aware of his name as I am of all the members of your rank. My intellect provides me with the capacity to retain such details regarding the Academy's – "

"Resources!" She glared at him as she completed his sentence. _Was Spock's display of bravado the type required to compete in this man's world? What type of sword would she need to wield on this career path to cut through all this bullshit?! _

Silence.

One of the medics emerged from the SkyAmbulance. "Cadet Uhura, the MTF's SkyPad has been cleared. We're ready for takeoff."

However, before Uhura could reply, Spock addressed the medic, "Cadet Uhura and I have not completed our conversation. If you can afford 2 minutes 45 seconds more, I believe that will afford us sufficient time to express final thoughts."

"Yes, sir." The medic headed back to the SkyAmbulance.

"I don't know why more time was needed, Mr. Spock. With all due respect, we certainly have nothing more to say to each other."

"When I provided the medic my estimate for additional time, I did not factor in contributions from you. Therefore, you must let me speak uninterrupted."

She now felt so irate Uhura dared not give more than a minimum response. "I'll comply, sir."

"Although you returned in a less than optimal condition, it is fortuitous you may be successfully treated leaving no residual internal health issues."

_Awkwardly stated, but better. In his way, at least he's showing concern for me as a person._

Spock continued, "As for the dermatological malady that currently plagues your face and skin, "

_AAAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!_

"This condition can be treated with topical preparations that have a good chance of not leaving any permanent scars or disfigurements."

_Thanks a lot._

"I am sure your Orion roommate will have some valuable recommendations on that matter since their female species specializes in this knowledge."

_How did he know I have an Orion roommate?_

"To eliminate the unpleasant odor from your hair – "

_Say, what?!_

"It may be necessary for you to unlock your braids to wash your hair thoroughly."

_Medic!_

Then suddenly, Spock appeared to _soften _his tone. "Soon you will be leaving campus to partake in the sole summer vacation of your four-year training at the Academy. It should provide you with sufficient time to heal your ailments. However, not being a medical doctor or cosmetologist, the opportunity presents itself for my prognosis to fail to be 100% accurate. If that becomes the case and you arrive back to campus not quite your former self –

_All right, what's the punch line?_

"I want you to know that simply your safe return would greatly please me."

Before a startled Uhura had a chance to respond or even reflect on what he had spoken, Spock signaled the medic who quickly placed her on the SkyAmbulance. As they ascended into the early morning air, Uhura looked back down and saw the Vulcan's eyes had not left the aircraft. Suddenly, she felt her head spinning.

_What is this Vulcan doing to me?_

**Author's Note: **I'm sorry it took me so long to post, but I hope the chapter was worth the wait. Your reviews are always welcome. The next chapter will involve more Spock/Uhura interactions.

*"The Physics of Hitting a Baseball." Real World Physics Problems. Retrieved 5/6/2010 from 


	18. Chapter 18 A Painful Truth

**Author's Note: **The story returns to Uhura's third year as a cadet, but then begins a 2-3 chapter detour to her second year.

8:17 AM Uhura hurried across campus on her way to the Hoshi Sato Language Lab. She had planned to arrive before it opened at 8 AM, but woke up later than usual due to Kirk's late night visit. She enjoyed seeing the pictures of Moretti's newly born daughter and reminiscing about their first year training mission. However, today, she had a full plate including her regularly scheduled activities and the symposium she had coordinated for one of Mr. Spock's research teams headed by Ensign Slovich.

With the language lab in her sights Uhura reasoned, _If I cut across the grass, I'll get there a little faster than if I stay on the sidewalk. _The cadet made a sharp turn to walk across the lawn and picked up her pace until . . . her boot suddenly slipped upending her body and her bag laden with a communicator and PADD. With the breath knocked out of her, she gasped for air and then attempted to breathe normally, again. A familiar face appeared over her.

"Are you in need of medical attention, young lady?" Dr. McCoy asked her with a smile. When Uhura realized how silly she must look sprawled on the ground, all she could do was laugh. McCoy sat down next to her with his hands expertly examining her head and neck.

"Leonard, what are you doing?"

"What's your name?"

"You know my name."

"Answer me."

"Cadet Uhura."

"Age?"

"Twenty-five."

"Birthplace."

"Accra in Ghana – the same as my mother, but my tribal origin is actually my father's homeland in East Africa. Do I pass the examination?"

"For now, but you watch yourself for the rest of the day. Concussions are nothing to play with."

"Leonard, I landed first on my ass, not my head."

"Then what was so damn funny."

"God."

"God told a joke?"

"He was talking to me . . . telling me to slow down or I will never get through the day."

"So, he stuck out his foot and tripped you. What a guy!"

"I know you don't understand. It really doesn't really make any sense when you're not a believer."

"In what? Christianity?"

As Uhura sat up, she answered, "Yeah, Christianity."

"And it doesn't bother you that most of the world thinks you're crazy?"

"Being Christian or affiliated with any religion in this day and age _is _insane. After the Genocidal War of the 21st Century, religious groups all over the world were blamed for the nuclear conflict that led to the death of millions of people. The backlash resulted in the destruction of houses of worship, religious texts and relics. If it were not for the Keepers of the Light, all traces of religion may have disappeared from the Earth. Even though our society is now more tolerant of religion, it still is rarely openly discussed. In Starfleet as in other professions, openly religious people have seen their careers stymied or ended prematurely due to discrimination."

"If you really believe that last statement, aren't you concerned about prospects for your own career?"

"That's why I know I have to be that much better than my peers in everything I do."

"Like knowing every dialect in the entire universe."

Uhura gathered her bag and stood up, while McCoy rose with her. "I know more than the average Terran, but I've got so much more to learn in this one lifetime."

"You should have become Hindu so you'd have more than one lifetime for your studies."

"Leonard?" Uhura flashed him one of her patented smiles.

"Yes." He said as he returned her expression with a rakish grin.

"Shut up."

McCoy watched her hips sashay from side to side as she walked away from him toward the language lab. Like other men who came to realize they could never _have her_, Bones had taken on the role of big brother. However, while his grin broadened into a lecherous smile as he experienced the beginnings of arousal in his loins, McCoy admitted at times he was guilty of incestuous thoughts toward his _little sister_.

At the language lab, Uhura completed Andorian Conversation #874 with a virtual companion. She then made her way toward the Communications Building for her weekly meeting with doctoral advisor Dr. Greeley to discuss her progress toward studying for comprehensive exams. As she walked, Uhura thought of the question McCoy had earlier posed to her about her religious beliefs - "_And it doesn't bother you that most of the world thinks you're crazy?"_

There were only two persons for whom their opinions on her faith had mattered to her – Baba and Mr. Spock. While Baba acknowledged Ngai Mumbi na Mwatuangi, he could not understand why – at the age of 19 – his only child became a Christian. He told her, "I should have never allowed you to go to college in the United States. They have turned you away from our people."

"You know that is not true. I will always be your binti and will uphold our traditions for the rest of my life."

"Then why do you worship a foreign god?"

"He is not a foreign god. As you know, before the Genocidal War millions of Africans called themselves Christian."

"This god is not indigenous to our people."

"Baba, there is only one God and He is the creator of us all."

Her father paused for what appeared to be an eternity before he responded. "In nineteen years, you have done very few things that have displeased me. While I would rather you not have adopted this Christian faith, I suppose matters could be worse."

Finding humor in his last statement, she asked, "Baba, what could possibly be worse than being a Christian?"

"Something like finding a mate with someone of an alien race."

Uhura laughed, "Oh, no. I would never do that."

Her father joined her laughter. "Have babies with blue skin."

"Yellow eyes."

"And a long scaly tail!"

"Yes, that would be a sure sign I had lost my mind if that ever came to pass." She assured him.

_I am my father's child._

Uhura thought back to the summer after the first year cadet training mission in which she almost lost her life. She and the precious ones – Shaniqua, Yasmin and Habibah – had agreed to meet for a month on the Grecian island of Samothraki in July. It would be the last time the three could get together for such an extended period of time due to Uhura's Academy schedule and the other women's work obligations. Temperatures remained quite high at that time of year, but it also meant fewer tourists and a better choice of villas.

To look at her, Uhura thought Sudanese-born Yasmin Temiz to be one of the sexiest woman she had ever known. Copper colored skin, long silky black hair, plump lips, and sparkling brown eyes adorned her. With her sultry voice, this full figure woman embraced her curves and carried herself as if she knew God had broken the mold after fashioning this wondrous creature.

Uhura met Yasmin as an undergraduate when the two making fast friends in a freshman composition class that _bored them both to tears._ Despite her looks, Yasmin relied on her business acumen as her vehicle to future prosperity. She financed her college education by running a handwritten letter service using _real paper and ink. _The affordable fee included delivery to the recipient's home. The quick growth of this unique service allowed Yasmin to hire Uhura and others to earn extra credits, making the Sudanese woman quite prosperous for a coed.

As Yasmin and Uhura's undergraduate years drew to a close, they surprised each other with their chosen career paths.

Yasmin exclaimed, "Starfleet Academy! You can't make any real money in the military. Girl, Starfleet is going to set you back on realizing your financial goals."

Uhura countered, "Toilet fixtures? You have the nerve to criticize me, while you're getting happy about selling toilets?"

"I'll be dealing with substantial intergalactic corporate accounts."

"Yasmin, you'll be dealing in an industry which deals in shit. How much satisfaction can you find in that?"

Well . . . after a year in the field, Yasmin proved to Uhura she could be quite comfortable in that line of work as she earned credits in the six figures after winning several major accounts with the Tellarite planetary system. As a result, Yasmin insisted on footing the entire bill for their Grecian vacation and the others – who earned quite substantially less – did not put up much of argument to discourage the offer.

Left alone with Yasmin at the villa after Habibah and Shaniqua decided to go into town for a shopping excursion, Uhura decided to discuss a matter she felt too uncomfortable to talk about with all of the precious ones at once. She found Yasmin lounging on the veranda and sat down in a chair next to her.

"Yasmin, may I talk to you about something?"

"Have you decided to take me up on my offer to join our company? We could use a good xenolinguist like you as we open up new territory."

"You know I've made a four year commitment to the Academy. And after my training, I've got to serve at least five years in Starfleet."

"Any contract can be broken?"

"I'm not interested in doing that, Yasmin. We've already discussed this before and you know I'm not going to change my mind."

"All right . . . all right, then what's on your mind?"

"I want to talk to you about men . . . I mean a particular man."

"Nyota – you have a boyfriend!"

"Why are you acting so surprised?"

"It's not that you've never dated or not shown any interest in the opposite sex, but you're bringing this up after the others left as though this were a secret." She leaned in close to Uhura. "Now, let me have all of the dirty details."

"Settle down, girl. It really isn't that exciting. For one thing, he is not my boyfriend . . . he's just a man."

"Just a man, huh? The way you say it makes me think this story is juicier than you are letting on. Describe him. Height."

"He's tall."

"Nyota, you're so petite saying _he's tall_ is almost meaningless coming from you. So answer this - if you were to kiss him, would you need to stand on your toes?"

"Probably."

"I like it. Eyes?"

"He has two of them."

"Nyota!"

"Dark . . . very dark . . . almost black."

"Mmmmmmm. Skin tone."

Uhura hesitated. "It's hard to describe."

"Lighter or darker than you?"

"Yes."

"What sense does that answer make?"

"I told you it's hard to describe."

"Age."

"It's hard to tell."

"Older or younger than you? And don't you dare answer, _Yes._"

"To look at him, he seems he could be the same age as me. But if you know anything about him – his career and accomplishments - then you know has to be older . . . maybe up to 10 years older."

"An older man? Oh, Nyota, unless this is just going to be a temporary fling, don't waste your time. When you reach your sexual peak, he will be well past his."

"This guy is . . . _different_."

"What do you mean . . . _different?"_

"He's brilliant, witty, a musical artist – "

"Does he walk on water?"

Warning, "Yasmin."

"So, who is this guy?"

"A Starfleet officer and instructor at the Academy."

"A military man? What can he possibly do for your financial bottom line?"

Uhura rose quickly from her seat. "Is everything measured in credits for you? Is something's worth always tied to its monetary value?" Angry, she began to walk back into the villa when Yasmin's words stopped her.

"Friendship . . . more than anything, I value your friendship, Nyota." Her disclosure is not easy to voice. "Outside of you and the precious ones, I don't have any real friends. No one I can trust, not even among my own family."

Uhura turned back to Yasmin wanting to contradict her confession, but the words would not come. Even in college, Yasmin was quite adept at building a network of associates, acquaintances, and prospects – but friends were a different matter. This beautiful woman with a golden touch could count all of her friends on one hand and they were all connected to Uhura. Suddenly, the irony of choosing Yasmin to provide advice on relationships became all too apparent. However, her North African friend did have a way of surprising her.

Yasmin asked, "So, what stage are you at with this relationship?"

"There really isn't a relationship. There's been a few occasions when we've had some interactions. It's just that . . . when I'm with him . . ."

"Are you in love with him?"

"Love? Who said anything about love? He's an officer and I'm a cadet. I'm sure he doesn't think about me in that way."

"I didn't ask how he felt about you. _Are you in love with him?"_

"_Love ?_ That's much too strong a word. In an odd sort of way, I guess I'm attracted to him . . . intellectually, that is."

Skeptically. "Right."

"Realistically, even if he were interested, there could never be anything more between us."

"Why not?"

"I told you he's a Starfleet officer. Fraternization is against regulations."

"He's a man and you're a woman. Since when can a policy get in the way of that?"

"But he's _different._"

"Are you in love with him?"

"It's not possible."

"Answer the question."Yasmin demanded.

Yasmin watched as Uhura lowered her head and finally her response escaped from her lips.

"Yes, but Baba would not approve."

"Why not? Is he married?"

"No."

"Engaged?"

"I don't think so."

"Living with someone?"

"I don't know."

"Then what is it? You're acting as though he's an alien or something."

Silence . . . a silence that stripped away the facade to expose a stark truth.

"Nyota, this man . . . he is not one of us, is he?"

"He is Vulcan." Uhura sank back onto the chair. "Baba would not approve. Nothing can come of it no matter how I feel."

Yasmin sat beside her. "Nyota, your father is not at the Academy. In fact, he's thousands of light years away with other colonists on New Afrika, so it's not about him. These feelings you have for this Vulcan . . . _it is you who does not approve_."

"Need I remind you that I'm a xenolinguist. Why would I have such prejudices? Some of my closest friends are – "

"Terrans. Nyota, you know better than to try to bull shit me. Have you forgotten how I make my living?" No response. "Hey – " Yasmin playfully nudged Uhura's shoulder. "I was trying to lighten it up a bit."

"I'm not a bigot." Uhura tersely retorted.

"Nyota, we all have biases of some kind or another. The way you were raised with your father's xenophobic beliefs, it's understandable if you were affected in some way. It doesn't make you a bigot, but it does not do you any good to pretend these prejudices don't exist."

Silence.

Realizing the conversation had no room to continue, Yasmin rose up from her seat. "I think it is best if this sits with you for a while. I'll go in so I can have dinner ready before Shaniqua and Habibah get back. If you feel like it later, come on in and give me a hand."

Uhura remained alone on the veranda as she felt the conviction of Yasmin's words upon her. The painful recognition came to her. _This truth hurts . . . but it was, indeed, the truth._

**Author's Note: **In the next chapter, Uhura will come to terms with her prejudices as she takes a class with Spock. However, another issue will arise that will come between them.

**Translations:**

Ngai Mumbi na Mwatuangi = God the Creator

Binti = daughter


	19. Chapter 19 Revelations

**Author's Note: **In a flashback story that began with Chapter 18, this chapter depicts Spock's last day with his parents on Vulcan as he readies himself to return to Starfleet Academy. Strong language and adult situations are included, but not quite enough to warrant a stronger rating.

During Starfleet Academy's summer semester, Spock chose to spend the time on Vulcan instead of Earth. As expected, he lived at the family estate and utilized the superior research facilities of the Vulcan Science Academy where he could work at an accelerated pace. Although other Vulcan scientists initially seemed reluctant to work with him, they later found it logical to willingly collaborate with Sarek's brilliant son on several important projects.

After 10 weeks and three days, Spock was ready to return to his duties at Starfleet Academy, but first needed to provide the usual words of parting to his parents. As he entered study where he knew they would be having tea, he found an unexpected visitor with them.

Before Spock could greet them, Amanda came to her son. Although she attempting to constrain herself, her concern for his departure could not be hidden. "Spock, has the time already come for you to leave us?"

"Yes, mother, I must be on my way shortly."

Sarek rose from his seat to intercede. "Amanda, you have not given our son time to welcome our guest."

Talok, a Vulcan close to Sarek's age, came to his feet to join them. A well-known attorney in the field of intergalactic commerce, he was far too influential to be ignored. His mother would have to wait as Spock turned his attention to this scion.

"Good day, sir."

Talok responded. "Good day, Spock. I must say, you appear more and more like your father as you grow older. That is quite fortunate."

As Spock began to speak, Sarek glanced at him in a vain attempt to temper his son's next words. "Talok, you make that observation about my resemblance to my father as if it were a remarkable accomplishment. As the son of Sarek – genetics, not fortune dictated my appearance."

"However, you are also the son of a human. It is my understanding there was no genetic engineering involved in your conception or fetal development to inhibit possible human characteristics. Thus, with your physical attributes left to chance, one can only ascribe your strong Vulcan features to providence."

"Fortune and providence." Amanda attempted to intervene. "These words seem an anathema to Vulcan logic. When did such language enter the Vulcan vocabulary?"

"Obviously, Amanda," Sarek condescendingly replied. "Such words became necessary when interactions with alien races warranted such terminology. You of all those in this room should understand that."

"Yes." She responded. "I suppose you are correct, my husband."

Sarek's response to his mother did not sit well with him. However, Spock knew it would be inappropriate to challenge Sarek in front of a guest.

"Spock, are you still with Starfleet?" Talok asked. "Have you not, yet, completed your obligatory tour of duty after graduating from that so-called Academy?"

"Sir, I am proud to say I am a faculty member at the Academy and have completed _two_ tours of duty as a Starfleet officer. I am scheduled to serve another five year tour once our latest starship is fit for voyage."

"_Our_ starship? You identify yourself with Terrans?"

"The vessel in question is a Federation starship. Since Vulcan is a founding member of the Federation, it is indeed appropriate to refer to it as _our_ starship."

"Why are you so quick to act as though Starfleet is so inclusive? After all, you are the only Vulcan currently with an appointment as a Starfleet Officer."

Spock looked directly at his father's guest. "It is immaterial whether there is one, one hundred or no Vulcans serving in Starfleet. As an attorney, you of all those in this room should understand that."

"Spock." Sarek attempted to redirect his son's attention. "I would not want you to miss your flight. Talok, please excuse us while we take a moment to speak our words of parting."

"Of course." Talok responded. "Spock, I'll inform T'Pring of your leave. It is curious you chose a time to return to Vulcan while my daughter has been off-planet studying gaseous anomalies with her college classmates."

"The circumstance should not be viewed as much as a curiosity as it is a coincidence."

"In any case, it will not be long before our families are made one as T'Pring is approaching maturation." Talok raised his hand in the Vulcan salute. "Live long and prosper, Spock."

Spock returned the gesture, but did not immediately speak the accompanying phrase. His father's glance finally prompted a perfunctory rejoinder. "Talok, please give my regards to your wife and daughter."

In the antechamber of their home, Sarek first addressed his wife.

"Amanda, could you check to see if Spock's flight is still on schedule?"

Out of the presence of Talok, Amanda now felt freer with her tongue. "How long have we been married, Sarek?"

"Woman, you are fully aware of the answer to that question."

"Then you are also fully aware that if you want to speak with Spock in private, all you have to do is ask." As Amanda began to leave, she added, "I'll be back in five minutes."

Spock felt the rare urge to smile at his mother's adroit handling of his father, but Sarek's next words would remove that impulse.

"Must you always find ways to agitate Talok. After all, one day he will become your father-in-law and our houses will become one. Should such a household be founded on needless discord?"

"Father, you agreed to this arrangement, not I."

"Spock, why do you behave as if choice plays a role in this matter? As you know, the pact was made out of necessity to address the inevitability of the pon farr."

"I am not convinced that such a pact is so necessary. I have become quite disciplined in maintaining a rigorous course in meditation. Thus far, I have successfully mitigated the more extreme effects of this biological event with the assistance of this practice."

"Except in rare circumstances, no Vulcan can survive the pon farr once his body reaches full maturation – unless he mates."

"Humans have a more precise word for it – they call it _fucking._"

"Do you think living among them for so long excuses your use of language which dishonors our home?"

"I mean not to debase our house, but why not call it what it is."

"From what possible experience are you drawing this knowledge? Do you really believe having sexual intercourse with Ms. Kalomi during one of these episodes makes you an authority on the pon farr?"

It did not surprise him that his father knew about his affair with Leila Kalomi while he was a cadet. No doubt, even on Earth, this powerful man had his ways of keeping tabs on his son. What Spock objected to was his father's derisive tone when speaking her name. "You will not talk of her in that way."

"And so, meditation was not your only remedy."

"I never said it was the only treatment. Both times a pon farr episode occurred, I was able to develop a strategy to effectively cope with this condition."

"By relying on Vulcan logic?"

"Yes. Are you not pleased?"

"It would please me only if convinced you understood appeals to logic will not be an option once the full awakening comes upon you."

"I have been able to manage it, thus far."

"It cannot be managed. It will control you."

"I am ready to face that challenge."

"You can do nothing, but obey these primal drives. You must complete the bonding ritual with T'Pring, so she will serve as your mate?"

"Why should I complete the bonding with T'Pring? Would it ruin your grand plans to bring together the houses of Sarek and Talok?"

"Why can you not see that I am trying to save your life?"

"I will choose my own mate."

Sarek's voice rose in volume and with a sharp edge Spock never before heard from his father. "It is not possible!"

It was the older man who turned away first. Sarek closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steady his breathing. He needed . . . he needed to find a way to, again, suppress the memories of the time he experienced his own full awakening . . . when he was filled with such an overwhelming need . . . such a violent passion . . . possessing him . . . commanding him . . . dominating his mind, body and spirit . . .

He was sure insanity had overtaken him . . . the ancient force . . . compelling him . . . coercing him to take T'Kel . . . to seize her . . . to have her . . . even though . . .

T'Kel was not ready . . . _his betrothed was not ready_ . . . strong, physically fit and quite beautiful . . . she had not fully matured when his time had come.

But nothing or no one could stop him . . . . no one could have predicted he would have kidnapped T'Kel from her home . . . then he attacked her . . . then he assaulted her . . . then Sarek raped her in the brutal sexual orgy that is pon farr.

And after he was through with her . . . it took T'Kel 9 days, 3 hours, and 17 minutes to die.

Under the Vulcan legal system, pon farr was the only justifiable defense against a myriad of violent crimes. Unlike other afflictions, the shame and indignity of pon farr negated studies or even much discussion of this _mating process _to find a way to a at least mitigate some of the more erratic and dangerous aspects of this condition.

Sarek wanted to help his son understand the perils of pon farr, but he could not bring himself to reopen this painful wound that had taken him years of secret psychological therapy and the love of Amanda to allow him to function normally, again. Sarek thought his son's bi-racial heritage might save him this experience. However, physiological signs and his son's previous quasi-pon farr experience showed otherwise. Now, he could only hope that in the next few years, Spock would follow his advice. When the full awakening came upon his son, it would be best for him to experience the pon farr in a controlled environment with a mature Vulcan mate. Even under those circumstances, there was no guarantee nothing would go wrong. However, Sarek believed, _the probability of a more preferred outcome was substantially higher even when taking into account the calculated standard deviation_.

Before Sarek had a chance to center himself in order to continue his conversation with Spock in a more rational manner, Amanda returned with news of Spock's flight.

"Spock, it's time for you to be on your way to the SpacePort. Your 3:58 PM flight to Earth appears not to have any foreseeable delay in departing as scheduled. I hope the two of you, at least, had a chance to complete your talk about whatever I was not suppose to hear before I came back." Amanda's playful smile faded as she sensed the troubled air that lingered between the two men.

Sarek spoke first. "Spock, my diplomatic duties will provide your mother and I the opportunity to come to Earth next year. We still have time to discuss this matter and take the appropriate course of action."

"As I have always done, I will respectfully welcome the visit of my parents. However, it would not be an effective use of your valuable time to return to this subject as I would not be receptive to further examination of it."

For a few moments, Sarek is without words as Amanda looked on. Then, the patriarch spoke. "I believe I have left our guest to his own devices long enough." He held up his hand in the Vulcan salute. "Live long and prosper, Spock."

Spock returned the gesture taking in both of his parents within his view. "Live long and prosper."

"But Spock," Amanda told her son, "I'm not ready to say good-bye, yet. I intend on taking you to the SpacePort."

Sarek tried to persuade his wife to do differently. "Amanda, our son has not been a child for many years. There is no need for you to make that trip."

"Father is correct. I have already sent my personal belongings to the SpacePort and I've made arrangements for Mirok to take me there in time for my flight."

Amanda addressed the men sternly as if both were her children. "I don't remember asking either one to comment on this matter. I was simply informing you of what I would do. Sarek, please return to entertaining Talok. I am sure he will be pleased to have the opportunity to speak freely out of the earshot of the _human_."

As Sarek opened his mouth to refute her last statement, her knowing – _you know it's the truth _– glance caused him to instead direct his final comment to his son. "Spock, I will contact you with our plans to visit Earth as soon as I receive the itinerary from my assistant."

Spock watched as his father left them_, _but his mother quickly demanded his attention.

"I've already told our family driver his services will not be needed. I am quite capable of piloting you to the SpacePort, myself. Spock, let's go."

With Amanda at the SkyCar controls and Spock sitting next to her in the passenger seat, they began the 12-minute trip to the SpacePort 376. Note: Unlike Terrans, Vulcans found it distasteful to name structures and facilities in honor of a member of their race.

As Spock looked down between them, he noticed an unfamiliar slender bound volume. However, his mother's conversation did not initially refer to it, but to an earlier discussion. Amanda told him, "When you were born, your father said you had my eyes. Perhaps, your features and physiology are predominately Vulcan, but you do have my eyes." She smiled as the thought pleased her.

"Your mark is on me in other ways, mother. Every time an irrational thought comes to mind, I ascribe it to my human side."

Amanda laughed heartily and, this time Spock did not try to restrain himself as the corners of his lips turned up to form what could almost pass as a smile. "You have my wit, Spock. You certainly know how to make me laugh. What did you tell Talok?" She attempted to mimic her son's voice. "_You make that observation about my resemblance to my father as if it were a remarkable accomplishment. As the son of Sarek – genetics, not fortune dictated my appearance."_ Recalling these words caused her to laugh, once more.

Spock's tone shifted to a more serious one as he more of the dialogue came to mind. "Father chided you in front of Talok. He is not family and should not have been privy to father's reproach, especially when Sarek knew you would not answer him in kind under these circumstances."

"Spock, my intention at that point was to divert attention to me in order to take some of the heat out of your duel with Talok."

"My_ duel_ with Talok?"

"As a sociologist on this planet for over 30 years, I've noticed a tendency for Vulcans – especially males – to initiate verbal duels as a seemingly more civilized alternative to resorting to weapons such as knives, guns, phasers and disruptor rays."

"Will you be publishing a paper about this phenomenon, soon, Dr. Grayson?"

"In your own way, I realize you trying to make light of the matter. However, many years ago when I attempted to include the observation in my dissertation on Vulcan traditions, the subject was censored from the text by my committee members."

"Censored? By an academic committee?"

"Does that surprise you, Spock? You don't really believe academia is the haven for free speech, do you? After all, you do have an appointment at an academic institution."

"I serve at a military academy. There are times when certain information is withheld for security reasons. It is a justifiable rationale."

"Under different disguises, so-called justifiable rationale has been used to suppress or obstruct the exchange of knowledge for thousands of years."

"Your study won the Clifford Geertz Prize for Cultural Sociology and is still highly regarded in academic circles."

"But you haven't read it, have you, Spock?"

Spock hesitated, but could only speak the truth. "I am sorry to say, I have not done so."

Arriving at the SpacePort terminal, Amanda landed the craft and looked to her son. "It's all right, Spock. I doubt if any Vulcan has, but one. It is ironic that in last two hundred Earth years, Vulcans have predominately played a patronizing role in dealing with alien cultures. Yet, they have been resistant to the study of their own civilization by those outside their race."

"Do I know of this Vulcan? That is, the only one open-minded enough to read your study?"

"I don't know if the word, open-minded, actually described him at that period of his life. While I was trying to complete my doctorate at Stanford, he was a visiting professor from Vulcan willing to serve on my dissertation committee. I suspect he agreed to serve, more out of the novelty of the situation, than academic curiosity. I'm sure he wondered what of substance could a 26 year old Terran woman possibly have to say about his people after researching slightly less than three years on his home planet." Amanda paused for dramatic effect knowing full well her son could hardly wait for her to get to the climax.

"Mother, I may miss my flight if you do not presently make your disclosure."

"Haven't you guessed by now? Spock, it was the man who would become your father."

Amanda could see she had finally succeeded in stunning her son. However, she had more revelations for Spock that day.

"Yes, it was Sarek who served on my dissertation committee. And despite my vehement protests, he also functioned in the role of censor striking passages and whole sections from my text. He even demanded all electronic copies of what he deemed to be the _offending content._ Coming from such a prominent family and an important figure in his own right, the university did not dare to challenge his demands. I turned over the electronic copies of countless hours of research which I would find difficult to duplicate, again. I was told it was all destroyed." Another pause. "But they were wrong."

Amanda picked up the journal that had lain between them. "Knowing how electronic copies can be co-opted, manipulated, or stolen – I used pen and paper to record some of my more important findings. Since Sarek requested to be the first reader of each chapter of my thesis, he removed this particular section before other committee members knew it even existed. Albeit just in the beginning stages and not at all conclusive, this volume contains the most research on this particular subject than can be found anywhere in the galaxy."

"Did you ever try to get it published after you obtained your doctorate?"

"I couldn't . . . I mean I wouldn't . . . after Sarek and I . . . " Another pause that seemed to last much longer than the others. "Well, that's another story." Amanda handed the volume to her son. "Spock, I want you to take this. In light of the discussion you and your father were having in the antechamber, I think it might be helpful."

"You were listening to our conversation when father asked for privacy?"

"Of course, I did. After all, Spock, I am _only human._" The genuine sincerity of her voice made Spock think his mother had certainly missed her calling as an actress. "Be off with you, now. It may make enlightened reading during your flight." With volume in hand, Spock stepped out of the vehicle. His mother added, "Don't forget to send me a message letting me know you've landed safely in San Francisco."

"How old will I need to be before I no longer need to perform that task?"

Amanda's luminous smile returned to her face. "I suppose it will be no longer necessary when I'm dead." With those words, she sped away.

Spock opened the volume and saw the first page entitled, "Recipes for Life." However, as he turned to subsequent pages, he knew why his father had expunged this text from her original document, for his _innocent _mother had written about the _pon farr_.

**Author's Note: **In the next chapter, Spock and Uhura attempt to negotiate their lives following recent revelations about themselves. Your reviews are always welcome.


	20. Chapter 20 The Bridge Part I

**Author's Note:** My apologies for being AWOL for nearly a month. Recently, life and a new job got in my way of storytelling. Hopefully, I'll be able to write on a more regular basis in the coming months.

This chapter is a continuation of a story thread taking place during Uhura second year at Starfleet Academy. The first section begins with her reflection of Spock's last words to her when she returned from a training mission which nearly ended her life. He told her, "I want you to know that simply your safe return would greatly please me" (see Chapter 17).

Uhura realizes she is attracted to Spock, but a friend makes her aware the cadet's hesitation to further the relationship may possibly be influenced by her father's xenophobic beliefs (see Chapter 18). Likewise Spock recognizes his desire for Uhura, but understands such a relationship would be in defiance of Academy policy. Moreover, for physiological reasons, his father believes it best if his son mated with a Vulcan woman. Although at the end of Chapter 19 Spock appears as if he would defy his father's advice, at the beginning of this episode the Vulcan seems to have chosen not to act upon the implications of his previous expressions of interest in Uhura's return to the Academy.

Mr. Spock was not at all like Uhura had remembered him.

_I want you to know that simply your safe return would greatly please me._

At the end of her first year as a cadet at Starfleet Academy, were these not the last words Spock spoke when she returned from a training mission that had come close to ending her life? Hadn't his words left her speechless as she was taken away by SkyAmbulance to the Medical Treatment Facility?

_I want you to know that simply your safe return would greatly please me._

Didn't these words disclose at the very least an interest in her? A promise of something more? But _more_ _of what?_

Mr. Spock was her superior officer and an instructor at the Academy. Fraternization between the ranks was inappropriate and clearly against regulations. Yet, Uhura had to admit an attraction to this Vulcan. An attraction she had been reticent to previously acknowledge – not just because _Baba would not approve_. Uhura had not approved. During the summer, her friend's frank discussion had brought it to light. Uhura was xenolinguist who held a fascination for alien languages and culture. She never thought it even possible for any of _them_ to appeal to her in a romantic way, but somehow one of _them_ did.

"Mr. Spock."

That summer - sometimes when she was alone - his name would escape her lips.

"Mr. Spock."

She liked the sound of it.

"Mr. Spock."

She liked the feel of it.

"Mr. Spock."

She liked the taste of it.

He was different. Part human, yet all Vulcan. A male, but not a man.

How could she have _feelings_ for _him_?

When Uhura returned to the Academy for her second year, she asked her advisor – Dr. Greely - to place her in a section of the core course, "Introduction to Ethics," with Mr. Spock as the instructor. Dr. Greely half-jokingly questioned her sanity, "What person in her right mind would willingly opt to be placed in a class with one of the most demanding faculty members on campus?"

_I want you to know that simply your safe return would greatly please me._

However, the first day of classes did not go as planned as Uhura awoke in a panic. In anticipation of seeing Mr. Spock for the first time in three months, anxiety kept her awake in bed for most of the night with her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. As she felt herself finally falling asleep at 4:17 AM, she convinced herself she only needed a short nap. _I'll get up at 6 AM . . . shower . . . dress . . . eat breakfast . . . and will find a seat no later than 7:45 AM for Mr. Spock's 8:00 AM. course._

When her eyes reopened at 8:09 AM, she sprang from her bed knowing she had overslept. It also did not take her long to realize her Orion roommate had already left. Without having the time for a shower, Uhura scrambled to put on her uniform and then ran at full speed across the quad to the building which held Mr. Spock's ethics class.

Outside the door of the seminar room at 8:31 AM, Uhura took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself before entering the class. Through the small window on the door, she noticed all seats around the table filled except for one . . . the one next to Mr. Spock.

Uhura took another deep breath as she opened the door, grateful the instructor had the full attention of her fellow cadets as he provided an overview of the course. She slipped into her seat praying he would not call attention to her late arrival. Unfortunately, that was not to be the case as it would not be long before all eyes were upon her.

Cool and seemingly detached, Spock addressed her. "Ms. Uhura."

_Oh, shit. _"Yes, sir."

"Are you enrolled in this course?"

_You know I'm enrolled in this course. _"Yes, sir, I am a student in this class."

"When you enrolled, were you aware of the start time?"

_I'm aware you are looking to make an example of me. _"Yes, sir. The class session begins at 8:00 AM."

"And what time did you enter the seminar room, Ms. Uhura?"

"8:31 AM, sir."

"Thirty-one minutes after the scheduled class start time. Cadet, what possibly could be the reason for your blatant tardiness? Do you mistakenly believe the Academy is still in recess?"

In response to their instructor's question, some of Uhura's classmates choked back nervous chuckles not knowing how to intercede on her behalf. Several others – _the Uhura haters _– were glad she was finally being shown up.

Uhura was tired and, at the moment could not be less concerned about the attitudes of her fellow cadets. With less than four hours of sleep, she found it difficult to even think straight, much less keep a civil tongue under Mr. Spock's interrogation. She needed to find a way to bring an end to this sideshow.

"Sir, with this being a course in ethics, I would find it especially inappropriate to speak less than the truth. I overslept this morning which is quite unusual for me. In the future, I will take the precaution of setting an alarm so this problem will not occur, again. Not only do I apologize for making such a bad impression on the first day of class, but I also deeply regret causing you to take valuable time away from your instruction to call attention to my unconscionable performance. Please, Mr. Spock, let's not spend another minute doing so."

Even the _Uhura haters_ were impressed by her sleight of hand, as their instructor could do nothing more but return to the discussion of a topic more germane to the course. Having dodged that bullet, Uhura sat back in her chair finding herself biting her lip periodically so not to surrender to much needed sleep.

Spock sat in the diner eating breakfast with Captain Pike as part of their Friday morning ritual. However, unlike other mornings, Spock appeared uncharacteristically quiet. Pike tried to begin a conversation several times, but found himself to be the only willing participant.

"Spock."

"Yes, Captain."

"You know when I talk to myself, people start questioning my ability to command."

"Sir?"

"I've been having a one-sided conversation all morning."

"I apologize for not providing you with better company."

"Spock, how long have we been friends?"

"Twelve years, four months, twenty-seven –"

"All right. Close enough." Pike interrupted with a smile, but the Vulcan's mood did not seem to change. "Spock, is there something you would like to talk about?"

Long ago, Pike assured Spock friends could talk with one another about _personal issues_. On the occasions he took advantage of that benefit, Spock found the process quite helpful. Yet, being a Vulcan, he usually found it difficult to initiate such intimate dialogues. Now, the time seemed right.

"I find myself attracted to a woman."

"Spock – that's great!" Pike slapped him on the shoulder and noticed his friend's expression still had not changed. "So, what's the problem?"

"The problem, sir

"Yeah, the problem. Why aren't we happy about this revelation?" No response. "Is she married?"

"No."

"Engaged."

"No."

"A minor?"

"No."

"A centenarian?"

"No."

"Then, what is the problem?"

"To disclose it may place you in a compromising situation."

"All right. For one moment, please pretend I'm just a friend named Chris. Just plain Chris. Once you tell me, it won't go on beyond this dining booth. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Chris."

"Chris." The pause before his next words added to Pike's anxious wait for Spock's revelation. "I find myself attracted to one of the cadets."

Pike sighed – a bit disappointed Spock did not disclose something more salacious. "Spock, while fraternization between officers and cadets is against Academy code, that sort of thing happens. The issue would be if such a relationship were in some way coerced by either party. Another major problem is if she were or is a student in one of your courses. It could not appear as if her grades were in any way the product of favoritism."

"The cadet in question is a student in one of my current classes and before the other students I have been deliberate in my seemingly detached treatment of her.

"So, she's given the full Vulcan treatment."

"I do not know quite what you mean by that comment. However, I also cover her appeal to me during class discussion by reserving the most challenging to be addressed to her so not to give any indication of partiality."

"I am sure she appreciates that."

"Undoubtedly, for she has admirably risen to the occasion. Her responses always display considerable study and analysis of assigned readings in preparation of each class. Her papers, marked objectively by my Course Assistant, always are superior to all others in the course."

"It sounds as if she is quite a remarkable woman."

"That she is, sir – Chris."

"After this current class ends, you need to make sure she's not a student in any more of your courses."

"It is highly unlikely, since she is not a student of any of the physical science departments."

"Good. So far, it appears you've found a way to be discreet with your relationship. However, that will become much more difficult with time. I suggest you end this affair as soon as possible."

"I cannot end something that has not yet started."

"What?"

"She does not know."

"She does not know what, Spock?"

"I have not told her of my desire for her."

"Spock." Pike looked at his friend seeing a rare look of confliction in his eyes. As a man he wanted to urge his friend to reveal his feelings toward her. However, duty called him to put back on his superior officer's hat. "You've got to let it go, Spock. If she does not know, it would be best if you didn't tell her."

Spock spoke the following words before he could weigh their impact on Pike and himself. "I need her."

Pike knew there was something here more than sexual desire. After two five-year tours of duty, Pike was well aware his Vulcan friend was not celibate or hesitant about satisfying carnal impulses when the need arose. Spock did not boast or speak of these matters to others for like most Vulcans these affairs were _private_. Pike realized the object of Spock's affections, whether she knew it or not, had touched his friend in a most intimate way. However, _for his friend's own good_, he had to steer him away from her.

"Spock, let it go. If you do, there won't be a problem, now will there?"

This time, Spock considered his next words. "Chris, remember you are the one who taught me to allow these explorations of human relationships. Why is it not permissible in this case?"

Pike then gave him an answer which he thought had the best chance of persuading his friend to side with his point of view. "Think of her, Spock. If she is as gifted as you say she is, then why take the chance of tainting her career with a possible scandal. Don't you care about her enough to allow her the opportunity to reach her fullest potential in her chosen career?"

Spock had no ready retort. He did care about Uhura and he was not at all sure if that feeling was reciprocal. Perhaps, it was best if the semester ended with no promise of any further contact between he and Cadet Uhura. Or, perhaps, there might be a way he could learn if she actually did possess feelings toward him.

On the last day of Mr. Spock's ethics course, Uhura sat in her usual seat next to the Vulcan instructor. She long had given up the fantasy he was in any way interested in her as a woman. _How could he be? After all, why would a human woman be at all appealing to him_. _It must be that he views human women as intellectually inferior to the females of his race. _

Each day Uhura spent hours on her ethics course assignments almost to the detriment of her linguistic studies. She voraciously read all required and recommended readings for the course, as well as, scholarship on the subject which complemented each week's topics. Some students were in awe of her, while the _Uhura haters_ felt she needlessly made the rest the class appear inadequate in comparison.

Gratefully, this final day of class seemed to go quickly for all concerned. Spock provided comments on their term papers making commendations regarding several of the students' submissions. However, all – including Uhura - were surprised when he did not cite her work as expected among the top term papers of the course.

Once Spock dismissed the class, Uhura quickly started toward the door as she felt the sting of what she considered to be a slight from his omission. However, before she could exit, he heard his voice call her back.

"Cadet Uhura, a word with you."

The other students in the class passed by her as she reluctantly returned to the side of the now standing Vulcan.

"Yes, sir."

"I wanted an opportunity to speak with you about your term paper."

"Didn't it meet with your standards, Mr. Spock? I believe I met or exceeded the criteria listed in your rubric."

"Cadet, I realize you have not had the chance to review the feedback on your paper, since I believe my Course Assistant only returned the papers via student PADD's this morning. However, when you do, you will find high praise for your work. In reading your paper, I found your ethical arguments against the policy of teaching using only Standard Federation as the lingua franca in Terran academic institutions to be quite thought-provoking."

Spock said these words with no difference than when he had asked to speak with her after class. Uhura thought, _That's just like a Vulcan. You can never really tell what is going on in his mind._

"Thank you, sir." For a moment, she stood before him not sure if she should ask the next question, but chose to challenge him. After all, since it was unlikely she would have a class with him, again, what did she have to lose by putting forth a harmless query. "Mr. Spock?"

"Yes, Cadet."

"If my work met with such high regard, why didn't you cite it along with the other exemplary papers in class?"

"Ms. Uhura, is your self-worth dependent upon the public acknowledgment of your academic endeavors?"

Immediately, she recognized the pettiness of her question. Silence. This was not the way she wanted the conversation to turn. She felt his dark brown eyes burrow into her, while the impassivity of his facial expression had the affect of slightly unnerving her. Uhura took a breath and spoke.

"Professor Spock, I apologize. The last thing I wanted to do was give the impression my work is primarily motivated by a need to for praise before my peers. However, I would not be honest if I did not admit to be a bit disappointed when I thought your estimation of my work did not measure up to your rigorous criteria."

"Disappointment is an irrelevant emotion in an academic environment."

"But it is a human emotion, sir." She spoke quickly. "And being human, I guess I can't help but experience certain feelings that, perhaps, you can never understand."

Spock was unprepared for her reaction which clearly bordered on insubordination. Although his face continued to be masked by a look of indifference, he turned away from her wondering if he should go ahead with his plans for that afternoon.

Uhura knew the words she had spoken were born from the utter frustration she had felt from not being able to expand on the attraction she had felt for him since the beginning of her first year at the Academy. Yet, she could not reveal that to him. Could she?

"Mr. Spock?"

He turned back to her replying dryly. "Yes, Cadet Uhura."

"Sir, I must apologize, again. The words I spoke were uncalled for, as well as, disrespectful."

"You have returned to the well twice to retrieve another apology in less than a span of three minutes. If you would like to further your career in the military, you must learn to consider your words more carefully before speaking them."

Uhura swallowed. At this moment, she wanted to do nothing more than find a rock and crawl under it. "Yes, sir. May I please be dismissed, sir?"

He spoke sternly. "I will tell you when you are allowed to go, Cadet Uhura."

She braced herself for further chastisement. "Yes, sir.

"About your paper, in my estimation it merits scholarly publication with only a few modifications. I am sure Dr. Greely will agree as I have forwarded your paper to her being she would be more knowledgeable of journals most appropriate for that discipline. I did not want to mention this before your classmates in order to avoid the appearance of favoritism."

Shame fell over Uhura as she heard his words as he voiced the support of a faculty member nurturing the academic growth of a student . . . nothing more.

Unable to look directly at the Vulcan, Uhura cast her eyes downward as she spoke. "Sir, please accept my gratitude for your unexpected gesture. I only hope my unfortunate choice of words today did not cause you to regret your deed."

"Cadet Uhura, your head is bowed as if still in a state of contrition. You will look at your superior officer when he addresses you."

"Yes, sir." She raised her head to allow her eyes to meet his. For some reason, his facial expression no longer appeared indifferent. To Uhura, he actually seemed to hold the look of a man taking in a woman, but she soon thought better of her observation. _Oh, girl. Snap out of it. Don't try to read something into it that isn't there. Remember – he's a faculty member and you're a student. There's nothing more to it._

Spock knew he had called attention to the basis of his current relationship to Cadet Uhura. After all, he was her superior officer and instructor. He also knew what he was about to ask her was not only improper, but opportunistic given the course of their conversation. However, against the advice of Captain Pike and the opinion of his father he felt he had to know if this woman . . . this human woman could possibly want him as much as he wanted her.

Spock held her upturned face with his eyes. _She is so beautiful. Her milk chocolate skin . . . liquid brown eyes . . . full lips . . . and a broad nose which unmistakably displayed the regal beauty of her African roots. _He wanted so desperately to take her scent within him and hold it inside until it permeated his being. He wanted to taste her lips and savor its flavor. He wanted to touch her . . . and caress her . . . and hold her, while telling her how much she filled his heart. He wanted to tell her. But, could he?

"Cadet Uhura, I checked your schedule and it appears you have no further academic courses or required tactical trainings for the remainder of the afternoon."

"You checked my schedule, sir?" Uhura's remorseful demeanor quickly dissipated. "Mr. Spock, why did you take the time to examine my schedule?"

"My intent was to determine if you had the time to accompany me on a field trip."

There was no way Uhura could have expected that response. "A field trip, sir?"

"Yes. A field trip is an instructional excursion for the purpose of firsthand examination of an event or place."

"Mr. Spock, I am well aware of its definition. However, I haven't been on a field trip since I was a child."

"Is it your contention that such an activity has no value for an adult?"

"No, sir. I wasn't trying to say it had no worth, but I am curious why you didn't ask other members of the class to join us?"

"Ms. Uhura, technically the course has ended; however, I thought you especially might appreciate this outing. Of course, it is completely up to you as to whether to take this trip. Would you like to take advantage of this option or not?"

Spock held his breath in anticipation of her answer, but he did not need to do so for long.

"All right, Mr. Spock. I'll go." Uhura reasoned something else might be on this Vulcan's agenda besides furthering her learning. The only way she could find out would be to accept his offer.

"Very well. Then we should be on our way to the transporter terminal." Spock started toward the door, while Uhura grabbed her bag and hurried to catch up to the long striding Vulcan.

"What is our destination, sir?"

"Brooklyn."

**Author's Note: **The next chapter should be up in a few days, since it is almost completed. As usual, your comments are always welcome.


	21. Chapter 21 The Bridge Part II

**Author's Note:** Chapter 21 is the second part of a storyline that began with Chapter 20. The episode takes place during Uhura's second year as a cadet at Starfleet Academy. In this section, Spock uses a story concerning the Brooklyn Bridge in an attempt to change the nature of his relationship with Uhura. The beginnings of Spock's friendship with Pike also figures prominently in this chapter.

It took Spock and Uhura more time to walk to the Starfleet Academy terminal than to transport 2,915 miles to the Brooklyn, New York station. Once there, Uhura again quickened her steps in order to match the Vulcan's pace as they walked to a park in the shadow of a suspension bridge. When he stopped there, she seemed unimpressed with the object of their travels.

Uhura asked, "Is _this it_, sir?"

"Yes, this place is our intended destination."

"But it's just a bridge, sir."

"More precisely, it is the Brooklyn Bridge."

"Yes, sir. I know. I saw it once before when I came to New York as a teenager to attend a summer camp."

"Have you ever crossed the bridge?"

"No, sir. It was a performing arts camp. We weren't studying architecture."

"Are you, at least, aware of its significance in your Earth's history?"

The twenty-six year old cadet tried her best to recall information she had learned in school over a decade ago. "It's an _ancient_ bridge from the 21st century . . . no, that can't be right . . . I believe it dates back to Earth's 20th century."

"The 19th century." He corrected her. "It opened to the public on May 24, 1883."

"At the time it was built, it was the longest suspension bridge in the world. I think it took advantage of technological developments in steel-wire to allow for its length."

"What is your estimate of its span?"

"From this vantage point, I would say the bridge is about a mile long."

"You are off by 11.84% which is not within an acceptable range of error. The bridge is actually 5,989 feet in length. You must learn to be more exacting with your approximation, Cadet Uhura.."

"Yes, sir." Uhura replied barely able to disguise her irritation with his comment. _Come on, Mr. Spock, could you please lighten up? It was only a guesstimate. _The cadet had not a clue why the Vulcan was so interested in this bridge, but she continued in her attempt to recollect more facts. "I believe at one time, the bridge's two Gothic-inspired towers were the tallest structures in the Western Hemisphere."

"276 feet, 6 inches above high water over the East River. Are there any other nuggets of illuminating information you would like to add on this structure?"

Uhura swallowed not out of intimidation, but to hold back her seething response to his smug tone. Then, another more significant recollection came to mind. "If I remember this correctly, I think the Brooklyn Bridge was one of the few manmade landmarks remaining on this planet after WWIII ended in 2053."

Uhura waited for another correction, but surprisingly none came. Silence.

"Walk with me, Cadet Uhura." She followed him from the park to the entrance of the bridge promenade. The two stood by as others – bicyclists, workers, tourists, runners, and school groups – entered or exited the boardwalk.

Uhura watched the Vulcan as he seemingly prepared himself for his journey as he took a moment to meditate on his purpose for bringing the cadet to this place. She noted his look as he raised his eyes to view this structure of limestone, granite, cement, and wood supported by a web of steel cables. His green-tinged face actually bore something close to what could be considered as a human expression. Uhura thought, "_Could it possibly be reverence_?" She followed him as he finally began the walk at an uncharacteristically leisurely pace.

"Ms. Uhura, are you aware I also undertook cadet training at Starfleet Academy?"

"Yes, sir. I believe you were the first Vulcan to do so. Mr. Spock, is it true you were the only one to complete the usual four-year officer training course in 2 ½ years?

"That is correct."

"Considering your education on Vulcan, the Academy must have appeared quite elementary to you, sir."

"I excelled as expected academically, but to become a Starfleet Officer one needs to be competent in more than scholarly endeavors. With Starfleet Academy dominated by humans – some with xenophobic attitudes - I found my ability for social interactions to be quite inadequate. I know this may be difficult to believe judging by the ease I now speak with humans."

Uhura wisely chose not to respond.

Spock continued. "By the end of my first year with Starfleet, I seriously considered returning to my home planet to pursue my studies at the Vulcan Science Academy. However, a young faculty member intervened – Lt. Cmdr. Christopher Pike."

"Captain Pike as a young man? What was he like back – " Taking her cue from the Vulcan's sudden stern look, Uhura decided to abandon that line of dialogue. "Please, go on, Mr. Spock."

"During the second semester, the lieutenant served as my instructor in Tactical Weapons. At the end of one of the last course sessions, he approached me and asked if I was considering leaving the Academy. When I answered in the affirmative, he said . . .'Let's go on a field trip.'"

Cadet Spock and Lt. Cmdr. Pike stood at the entrance to the Brooklyn Bridge.

Pike began to speak with an unmistakable sense of awe, "It was designed by a German immigrant to the United States named John Roebling. After a freakish fatal accident, the project was taken over by his son – Washington Augustus Roebling. When Washington became incapacitated by his work, his wife – Emily – then guided the project with a team of relatively young and inexperienced of engineers. For thirteen years, mostly workers of Irish descent labored to build the bridge under extremely difficult and dangerous conditions. Their bravery born out of economic desperation was not without great sacrifice as the work took the lives of 27 men and disabled a number of others."

The Vulcan cadet commented, "Given the circumstances, one knows why Terrans cite the bridge's completion as one of the most significant engineering achievements in Earth history."

"It was much more than that, Spock."

In an attempt to provide a more satisfactory answer, Spock added, "I understand the bridge also functioned as an iconic symbol of the New York skyline and served as a popular cultural image throughout its history."

The lieutenant commander did not respond immediately, but seemed to take time to consider his next words. "Cadet Spock, do you believe in providence?"

"No sir, I do not. There is not even a comparable word to this term in the Vulcan language, since the word implies a belief in divine intervention. For beings of science, such a concept is illogical."

"Well, I am a man of history and I do believe in providence."

"Sir, with no disrespect intended, I am surprised at your statement. In class, you appeared to be a rational man."

"Spock, this rational man became a believer in providence when I came to understand the true significance of this bridge. The first miracle was that there were Terrans who somehow survived the third world war – that brutal, barbaric conflict which reduced our global population by nearly 60%. If you read the survivor accounts of the period written after the hostilities ended, one experience appeared to dominate our ancestors no matter where they were in the world. They were numb . . . a numbness that paralyzed their minds, spirits and souls . . . a numbness which threatened to finish what the nuclear bombs had not accomplished – the extinction of the human race."

Pike paused, his face revealing the weight of this pivotal point in human history. Then he continued.

"Spock, have you ever heard the story of the Original Seven."

"It concerns a 21st Century Terran folktale, does it not?"

"Calling it a folktale fails to signify its import to our civilization. If this is how it is termed by Vulcan historians, then it is an insult to our people."

"Then please enlighten me, sir."

"No one knows why, but on September 11, 2053 a group of seven survivors from Maryland made a pilgrimage to the Brooklyn Bridge. They stood here at the entrance of the bridge, at first hesitant to move onto this structure. Then, one of them stepped forward – a woman named Araminta Ross. She told the others she would be willing to guide them across; however, once they made that commitment there was no turning back. 'If anyone lost their nerve,' she threatened, 'I'll throw you into the river myself!'"

"Then, with Araminta in the lead, they took their first steps onto the promenade." Pike began to move along the boardwalk, while Spock followed. "And inexplicably as they moved along the wooden planks, the numbness that had been their companion for so long began to melt away. In its place came grief . . . joy . . . regret . . . hope . . . suspicion . . . trust . . . vindictiveness . . . compassion . . . hate . . . and love . . . not the least of these emotions was love. By the time, these pilgrims reached the first tower, they were weeping and laughing . . . and holding on to each other and letting go."

Skeptically Spock asked, "This phenomenon was ascribed to a bridge."

Pike stopped and turned toward the Vulcan. "The Original Seven proved the bridge to be a sanctuary for those who were willing to reclaim their humanity. After news spread of what happened on that day, pilgrims came from all over the world seeking out Harriet to guide them on this journey."

"Sir, I believe you initially called this woman Araminta."

"Yes, that was her birth name. However, the people began renamed her as Harriet . . . Harriet Tubman. To our ancestors, the Moses of the U.S. Civil War era appeared to come back to life in the form of this 21st century woman."

"Sir, you cannot truly be assigning validity to this myth. Surely the story has never been verified and irrefutable evidence this woman actually existed during this period certainly was not established."

"Spock, don't you see? What actually happened is not what is important? This _myth_ – as you call it – served as a catalyst for our people to desire . . . to want . . . to need. Once again, it allowed our ancestors to dream, create, invent, develop, and build. The power of this myth and its effect on our world cannot be underestimated."

Pike continued the walk.

Spock did not know why, but he hesitated to follow the lieutenant commander. This Vulcan man of science suddenly found the bridge to be disquieting. Finally, Spock moved to catch up with Pike. Nothing more was spoken until they stood under the first tower.

Pike held the bridge in his gaze as he simply stated, "She's so beautiful."

As the Vulcan took in the grand view of the structure, he commented, "I must agree it is aesthetically pleasing."

"I doubt the Roeblings or any of the men involved in building her knew they were creating a great work of art. But, that's what she is."

"Sir, I do not understand why you choose to personify it."

"I think you know all too well why I do. Come with me, Spock."

Pike brought Spock to the other side of the arch and pointed upward to writing on the masonry. "On this entire structure, there is only one place where one can find graffiti. It is believed to have been written there by one of the Original Seven. Although it's a quote from a 20th Century painter named Georges Braque, it aptly conveyed what our war ravaged ancestors were feeling."

Spock took in the words, which read, _Art is meant to disturb. Science reassures_.

Pike continued with his indictment. "Faith in science and the creation of powerful weapons in the guise of security almost destroyed our world." Art abruptly awakened us from this synthetic comfort and caused our people to search for that within us which make us uniquely human."

Silence. Not a quiet silence, but an absence of words. There was no known spoken language to describe what Spock was feeling. Emotions . . . . the emotions he had tried to suppress all his life now challenged his impassive veneer. He looked to Pike and realized the lieutenant commander _knew _. . . he knew that in this Terran world Spock had been terribly lonely. Although born of a Vulcan father and human mother, he spent his entire life denying his own humanity. Yet, to remain in Starfleet he could not continue to maintain the shield he had placed between himself and these beings. Spock needed to make a human connection . . . and this man . . . this young Terran lieutenant commander was offering himself as the bridge to that kinship.

Pike reached out his hand and Spock received his gesture.

At the conclusion of Spock's story, there was silence.

Uhura could not speak for there was no known spoken language to describe what she was feeling.

She could not look at him.

She could not prevent shame from entering her soul.

As tears welled up in her eyes, she cast her look downward. Through the spaces between the boardwalk planks, she saw the river water churning beneath her feet.

This aspiring xeonolinguist had studied alien cultures at a self-imposed distance. An eager student, she aggressively delved into her discipline collecting knowledge on alien culture. However, she was careful not to allow her humanity to be affected by that experience. She had believed, _Aliens were others, not people . . . not humans . . . not like me. They are different . . . he is different . . . Mr. Spock is different._

Spock and Uhura stood under one of the great Gothic towers of the bridge.

Silence.

Just as he began to reach out his hand, she looked up to him and spoke words from her heart.

Spock was unprepared for what she had to say.

**Author's Note:** I will try to have Part III of this storyline posted within the next 7-10 days. Your comments are always welcome.


	22. Chapter 22 The Bridge Part III

**Author's Note:** Chapter 22 is the fourth part of a storyline that began with Chapter 20. The episode takes place during Uhura's second year as a cadet at Starfleet Academy. In this section, Uhura makes a revelation which Spock does not expect.

At the conclusion of Spock's story about his experience with Pike on the Brooklyn Bridge, there was silence.

Uhura could not speak for there was no known spoken language to describe what she was feeling.

She could not look at him.

She could not prevent shame from entering her soul.

As tears welled up in her eyes, she cast her look downward. Through the spaces between the boardwalk planks, she saw the river water churning beneath her feet.

This aspiring xeonolinguist had studied alien cultures at a self-imposed distance. An eager student, she aggressively delved into her discipline collecting knowledge on alien culture. However, she was careful not to allow her humanity to be affected by that experience. She had believed, _Aliens were others, not people . . . not humans . . . not like me. They are different . . . he is different . . . Mr. Spock is different._

Spock and Uhura stood under one of the great Gothic towers of the bridge.

Silence.

Just as he began to reach out his hand, she looked up to him and spoke words from her heart.

Spock was unprepared for what she had to say.

"I want to thank you, Mr. Spock, for sharing your story with me. You revealed a part of yourself I'm sure wasn't easy to disclose. I believe you did so because you sensed something within me I was loathe to confess. Something so ingrained within me . . . I could not bring it to light . . . not by myself."

Uhura felt her throat tightening as if a hand were grasped tightly around it. _No . . . no . . . Nyota . . . you will let him know . . . you must let him know._ She moved to the pedestrian railing and held on to it as she attempted to calm herself. Spock joined her there, his unmasked face portraying a deep concern for her. Yet, she missed the Vulcan's naked expression, because she could not look at him. She could not look at him and share a hurtful truth.

Mr. Spock, did you know I'm a Christian?"

"During your first year at the Academy, I believe I noticed your presence several times as you met with a Christian-interest group when it used to hold its meetings on the campus quad."

"Yes. We met on the quad until the Academy Superintendent provided space for us in the – "She paused as the insight came to light. Uhura turned to him and asked, "Sir, you noticed me?"

"I suppose it would be more accurate to say I noticed a young woman who looked like you. Curiously, she appeared to look my way each time I walked by the group on my way to teach a class in quantum physics. Was I correct in my identification of you as the onlooker?"

Grateful her skin color hid her blush from embarrassment, Uhura answered him. "Yes, sir." The cadet would have rather continued this line of conversation. However, she knew she must return to stay on course with her words before changing her mind.

"I became a Christian as an undergraduate. My conversion was not due to some dramatic crisis in my life, but rather as an unexpected consequence of a crush."

"A _crush_? Someone or something applied force to you."

"No, Mr. Spock. _Crush_ – it's slang for an infatuation."

"Romantic feelings?" Spock spoke tersely. Although illogical to believe she would not have previously experienced these affections, the Vulcan was not pleased with her admission.

"Yes, sir. In retrospect it was more of a childish infatuation, but you couldn't tell me anything different at the time. I thought I was very much in love with him."

"Past tense. You used the past tense when describing your behavior. Do you no longer hold these sentiments?"

The cadet did not hesitate when she told him, "I still love him."

"I see." Spock snapped.

"I love him like a brother."

"Like a _brother?_ You love him, but as though he was a blood relative."

"That is correct."

Spock's face did not betray his relief. "And now I assume since your matriculation, you have little contact with this man. Perhaps, he now lives on another planet or in another galaxy."

" No, sir. I'm fortunate that Jordan is at the Academy."

"Jordan?"

"Yes, sir. Jordan Williamson. I don't know if you know him, but he's a third year graduate student in the field of ecosystems engineering. Being a year ahead of me, his counsel has been invaluable."

Spock was well aware of Jordan Williamson. Although he never had taken one of Spock's courses, the Vulcan like other faculty members took notice of high performing students as candidates for the Starfleet Command track. By all accounts, this young man was an exceptional cadet in his academic studies, as we as, military training.

Spock commented, "Yes, I do know of this cadet. I assume you were attracted by his intellectual prowess."

A smile spread across her face causing Spock to wonder, _What has caused her to smile?_ He then noted what appeared to be a nervous laugh before she replied.

"You see, Mr. Spock . . . Jordan . . . Jordan . . . oh, Jordan . . ." she voiced coyly.

Spock felt himself growing impatient. "Ms. Uhura, a complete sentence is preferred."

"Mr. Spock, Jordan is quite a good looking man."

Spock was not at all pleased. "You found this man physically attractive."

Noting an edge to his tone, Uhura instinctively matched its ambiance. "Sir, I did not use the past tense. Jordan _is_ physically attractive."

"In what way?"

"Sir?"

"I am curious as to why you find him to be appealing."

"Mr. Spock, with all due respect, why would that be of interest to you?"

Spock knew full well of his motivation, but he chose only to provide partial disclosure. "After all, Cadet Uhura, I am a Vulcan on an alien planet dominated by humans. Surely, it would be prudent for me to study all behavioral aspects of this species, so I can better understand go about my duties more effectively under these circumstances."

"Sir, you revealed in your story concerning yourself and Captain Pike that your mother is a human. Aren't you already knowledgeable on the ways of Terrans?"

"Although my biological mother is human, I was born and spent my formative years on Vulcan. My mode of thought, behavior and essence is decidedly Vulcan. _I am Vulcan_."

Uhura looked to him warily. "At the end of your account, you said Captain Pike reached out his hand and you received it. Wasn't that an indication of you finding a link with your own humanity?"

_This woman, _Spock reflected, _displays keen insight. Perhaps, too keen_. "Cadet Uhura, you may be reading too deeply into that narrative. It was a simple story of friendship. My story depicted a human making an offering of comradeship to someone unlike himself in the spirit of interspecies harmony."

Spock recognized Uhura's expression. It was the same look Pike gave him when he felt the Vulcan was _full of shit_.

"I see." Uhura drily responded.

"Very well. If you are satisfied with my answer, then please inform me of the physical attributes of Mr. Williamson that appealed to your senses."

"Mr. Spock," she hesitated, "I would feel odd speaking of this subject with you."

"Why is that?"

Uhura did not dare voice the true reason for her reluctance. So, she told him, "After all, sir, you are one of my instructors and a superior officer."

The cadet was not sure, but Spock seemed to look at her as if she was _full of shit._

"Cadet Uhura, you neglected to cite the role for which I am noted which is most fitting for our present discussion. I am a scientist. Thus, as a scientist, I will listen to your comments with an objective and impersonal ear. Please proceed."

Although still suspicious of his actual impulse, Uhura decided it would do no harm to comply. "About Jordan . . . well . . . he's medium height for a man . . . I mean, a human, sir. However, he's wrapped in a tight, muscular, compact body that commands attention wherever he goes."

"You are saying his allure is based on a physically fit body."

"No, sir. There's more to Jordan than that."

"I am listening, Cadet, go on."

"He's got these dreamy, deep brown eyes, high cheekbones, and fleshy lips that beg for a taste."

"A _taste_, Ms. Uhura?"

"It's slang for a kiss, Mr. Spock. Surely you've been around humans long enough to have heard that expression."

"No, I have not."

Uhura joined the devilment in her eyes with a deadpan face when she commented, "I suppose it indicates a major generational difference between us."

Spock suppressed the urge to provide a retort that would create a detour from their current discussion. He had come to realize, _This woman is crafty. Even when measured in Terran years, she must have estimated there could not be more than a decade difference in their ages. In fact, the disparity in their ages was only 7 years, 1 month, and 6 days._

"Cadet Uhura, is there anything else specifically about Mr. Williamson's physical appeal you would like to add?"

A bit disappointed he did not take her bait, Uhura took a moment before giving her next answer. Then _that smile_ reappeared on her lips. "His skin. He has the most beautiful dark chocolate skin I have ever seen in my life."

"You describe it as though it were an integumentary delicacy?"

"_Integumentary delicacy, sir?"_

"Then let me rephrase the question. Did Mr. Williamson's _beautiful dark chocolate skin also beg for a taste_?"

At first taken aback by the nature of his question, Uhura then found her voice. "Sir, if I did not know you were being _objective and impersonal_, I would say your words detected something quite different."

While realizing the accuracy of her observation, Spock chose to pursue his questioning from a different approach. "Previous to your last remark on Mr. Williamson, I noted an expression on your face similar to that of a smile."

"I was not aware of that reaction, but I have no reason to refute it."

"Does the mere thought of this physical feature of Mr. Williamson bring you pleasure?" As the words left his mouth, Spock knew the subtext revealed more than he cared to disclose.

Uhura's instincts again told her to question his professed impartiality. The Vulcan's manner appeared more like a jealous lover, than a disinterested scientist. However, she thought, _How can that be? I must be misreading the situation._ A different tactic was in order.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Spock. I really don't even think about Jordan like that anymore. I haven't done so since my sophomore days in college. After you get to know someone, the physical appearance just does not seem important in matters of the heart."

Her sentiments gave Spock pause as he wondered, _What would it take for this woman to consider me in her affections?_

Uhura continued. "And the truth is Jordan was never interested in me in a romantic way." Uhura laughed softly. "Of course, my ego would like to believe he was at least tempted by my feminine charms."

Spock thought, _I am sure the young man was tempted. If he is of the male species, Mr. Williamson was definitely tempted._

Spock commented, "And so, when you could not secure a romantic relationship, you settled for friendship."

"Mr. Spock, you make friendship sound as if it were some sort of consolation prize. In reality, I do not take such relationships lightly as my friends are quite dear to me. "

"Cadet Uhura, I assure you I meant no offense. It was just my awkward attempt to move the narrative along."

When his comments once more evoked the sound of her sweet laughter, Spock was pleased he had amused her. The Vulcan moved closer to her . . . so close he could smell her scent. So, close . . . he could easily _taste her_.

Uhura wanted to be near him . . . standing there . . . so close she could smell his scent. So close . he could . . .

Suddenly, Uhura stepped back. _Come on, girl_. She told herself. _Gather your thoughts. You must let him know._

Unsettled by her movement away from him, Spock asked, "Cadet Uhura, did I do something to disturb you?"

"No, sir. I did not have a chance to tell you all that I needed to say."

"There is no need to speak any more about Mr. Williamson."

"Please, Mr. Spock, allow me to continue."

Spock reluctantly conceded. "As you wish."

"Thank you, sir." Uhura took a breath to give voice to the imperative she had given herself.

Uhura told him, "As much as a value my friendship with Jordan, I owe him a debt I can never repay - for it was he who introduced me to the teachings of Jesus. Through Jordan, I came into the company of others who shared this faith. Then one day I too became a believer and joined the body of Christ."

Uhura sought a reaction within his impassive face, but none could be found. So, she asked him, "Vulcans do not believe in a supreme being, do they Mr. Spock?"

"The evolution of most civilizations usually includes a period in which gods are imagined to explain that which could not be understood by primitive minds. This developmental stage usually abates as scientific inquiry and rational thought takes the place of ignorance and superstition. Of course, there are some races of advanced intellect which strangely still hold deep religious convictions. For instance, the Bajorans quickly come to mind as one example."

"Well, I suppose as a Christian I must also appear _strange_ to you in the context of our modern world."

"I did not intend to give the impression I meant to insult such practices."

"It's all right, Mr. Spock. Most of my classmates and even a few of my closest friends don't understand why I am a believer, but I am."

"You can be certain, Cadet Uhura, your religious beliefs are a private matter and of no concern to me."

Her voice became strong with conviction. "But my faith is an important part of who I am."

More than once Captain Pike cautioned him against blatantly stating all that came to mind – especially when dealing with human females. Yet, he did not know quite what to say to calm her.

"Of course, it is." Spock told her, but even he realized the inadequacy of this response.

"Mr. Spock, since I try to live my life in a manner that reflects my Christian beliefs, it disturbed me to find out something about myself that dishonors my faith."

"From what I have come to know about you, Cadet Uhura, I do not see how that could be possible."

"You don't know, sir . . . you don't really know who I am." Uhura took another breath, and then told him. "My father is a member of Terra Prime. Are you aware of that organization, Mr. Spock?"

"It is a xenophobic terrorist organization founded during Earth's 22nd century. Members fought to expel all aliens from this planet, as well as, your solar system. Why would such a philosophy be attractive to your father?"

"Is there a rationale for hate, Mr. Spock? Can there be a justification for such bigotry that one might kill innocent children just because they are the product of . . . " Uhura's voice trembled.

"A human and an alien." Silence. Not a silence that comforts, but one that deeply disturbs. Finally, Spock raised his voice, again. "My last year at the Academy, there were a string of murders of bi-species children which occurred throughout this planet. Nine met their deaths, before authorities arrested 17 humans charged with this heinous conspiracy. All were associated with an extremist cell of Terra Prime. Was your father among them?"

"Yes." She did not hesitate to speak. There was no reason to hold back now.

"How long did you know of his involvement?"

"I did not know he was even connected with Terra Prime until after the trial, which as you may remember, did not take place on Earth. The entire incident was quite an embarrassment to those at the time in leadership positions with United Earth, since it had been popularly believed the last remnants of this group were squelched more than a half a century ago."

Spock recalled. "No images or names were ever made public. The accused detention and trial supposedly were carried out under the auspices of an Intergalactic Court on the far edges of the Alpha Quadrant. The verdicts for each of the defendants were sealed and their fates hidden."

"When I was 12, one day I came home from school and my maternal grandmother was there. She said my belongings had already been packed and were on their way to her Ghanaian home. I was to now live in her household. She told me my father had to suddenly take leave off-planet to take an advantage of a business opportunity. Of course, I thought the story to be strange. My father rarely even left his homeland, so I could not imagine what kind of business opportunity would convince him to leave Earth. There was no time even for a good-bye."

A tear came to Uhura's eye, but the Vulcan appeared unmoved as he retorted coolly. "I am sure the parents of the murdered children would sympathize."

"Mr. Spock . . . I did not presume my pain to be comprehensible to that of the victims' parents. However, as a young girl, I did feel pain . . . . I still feel this pain. My mother died shortly after I was born due to complications from the pregnancy. My father is the only parent I have."

"You speak as if you still care for him."

"He is and will always be my Baba. He loves me and I love him."

"Your affections are misplaced."

"I cannot deny him."

"Need I remind you that if I had been younger at the time of the crimes, I could have been a target. Cadet Uhura, if your rationale for disclosure of this reprehensible account was to evoke my pity, you have wasted your time."

Spock had not raised his volume, but his voice filled with anger and disgust cut her deeply. The Vulcan turned away unable to bear her in his sight.

Silence.

Finally, Uhura found the strength to continue. "The accused were held in detention for six years. His _compassionate jailers_ allowed my father to communicate with me and my grandmother. All that time, he kept up the pretense of being away on business." The thought produced a short, bitter laugh. "It really did not take me long to realize my father was in trouble, but as a young girl I really did not want to know the truth."

"I became an active participant in the charade - making up all sorts of fantasies in an attempt to alleviate my fears as to his true predicament. Under this illusion, I would fill my weekly communications to him with the type of mundane requests for fatherly advice a maturing girl would ask to bring a sense of normalcy to her life. And you know . . . my father would answer each one . . . he would answer each one not displaying a hint of any of unremitting stress he undoubtedly was experiencing."

Spock still would not look at her.

Silence.

"By the way, Mr. Spock, when they finally got around to holding a trial, my father was found not guilty."

This statement finally got the Vulcan's attention. "I assumed – "

"_You assumed_ the bigot must be a murderer? Not this time. However, the hatred my father harbors kills in other ways besides claiming a body as collateral. Sometimes it just takes one's soul."

"Did your father return to you?"

"He came back to Earth, but not to stay. He came back to recruit colonizers for an M-class planet United Earth provided him as reparations for the years he unjustifiably spent in captivity due to his association with Terra Prime. In the end, the authorities probably could not have been happier with the turn of events. They rid themselves of my father and some like-minded Terrans."

"Did he ask you to go with him?"

"By that time, I was a young woman with a new faith, close friends, and a passion for my chosen vocation. My father's offer had no appeal for me."

"Then, why can you not renounce him?"

Uhura stood her ground as she unflinchingly stated, "As a Christian and human being, I renounce all doctrines of intolerance. Yet, I know I have not lived my life with him and not been unscathed. It is something I will need to be vigilant about for the rest of my life. Still, I am my father's daughter and I will never disclaim him."

Spock took her into his eyes. He brought Uhura to the Brooklyn Bridge to nurture _a_ _feeling_ . . . _a spark _he had felt when the two of them were together. He waited until the end of the semester to explore this sentiment, since they would then be freer to do so as a man and a woman. Although still Uhura's superior officer, Spock became impressed with her ability not to be intimidated by Spock's rank.

Here on the bridge, Spock revealed something about himself to cultivate a step toward an intimacy that would allow him to stand close to her . . . take in her scent . . . touch her . . . _taste her_.

But when the cue came for Spock to reach out his hand, Uhura chose to give voice to something that he could not understand.

Spock took her into his eyes and suddenly he did not recognize her.

Uhura did not regret letting him know about her father. She desired to go beyond their roles of instructor and student . . . superior officer and cadet. However, she knew such a relationship required an honesty and transparency that could not be counterfeited.

If he could not understand how she could abhor her father's prejudices, but still love the man – then this relationship was not meant to be.

Uhura took him into her eyes and suddenly she did not recognize him.

**Author's Note:** The next chapter will be up within 7-10 days. Your comments are always welcome.


	23. Chapter 23 Without You Part I

**Author's Note:** Chapter 23 is the first part of a storyline depicting a period of schism between Uhura and Spock. Taking place during Uhura's second year as a cadet at Starfleet Academy, in this chapter our duo uses their friends in an attempt to understand their ill-fated experience on the Brooklyn Bridge (see Chapters 20 – 22).

After eating their customary Friday morning breakfast, Captain Pike and Spock walk back to Officers' Housing.

"Spock, I still don't see why you won't join me and Keiko on St. Maarten. With Jack visiting his mother in Spain, it's a great opportunity for an adults only vacation."

"Sir, I appreciate your concern regarding my social activities; however, would you not prefer to be alone with this woman."

"Don't you worry about us, privacy won't be an issue. We've rented a large oceanfront cabana with several bedrooms."

"Sir, I find it curious you would rent a housing unit with so many sleeping compartments."

Pike should have known his Vulcan friend would recognize the presence of a hidden agenda. "All right, Spock. If you must know, Keiko has a friend who she does not want to leave alone during the holidays. Usually, I'm not a party to these types of arrangements, but I've seen an image of her friend and she really is quite _easy on the eyes_."

"_Easy on the eyes? _Sir, I have not mentioned any problems with my vision._"_

"Spock, it's an expression that basically means - she's so pretty you won't tire of looking at her."

"I am sure Keiko's friend meets your usual aesthetic standards; however, I have work to do."

"Come on, all work and no play makes Spock a dull boy."

"Another colloquialism, sir?"

"Spock, after all these are the holidays. You should take some time to enjoy yourself."

"Captain, I do have three major research projects under my supervision which demand my attention. I look forward to this period as an occasion to bring my full attention to this work."

"Knowing you, the projects have several proficient Research Assistants who can ably perform any necessary tasks related to this work in your absence. Being Research Assistants, those _poor souls_ have no choice, but to sacrifice their holiday time. But _you do have a choice._ It's one of the privileges of being a faculty member."

"Captain, you act as though I take my research lightly."

"Of course, I don't Spock. However, you know as well as I that for a few days you can also use remote access to monitor their efforts."

"That is not the only factor in my decision to remain here. My parents are expected to arrive here for a brief visit before traveling to New York for a Federation Diplomatic Summit. In all my years associated with the Academy, neither one has ever previously visited campus. Therefore, this would be a prime opportunity to provide them with a tour."

"On what date are they expected to arrive?"

"January 3."

"January 3? That's not until the second week of the holiday period. That means you can spend up to nine days with us and then make it back here in plenty of time to play tour guide." The Vulcan does not respond. "Spock?" Pike stopped walking, causing his friend to halt his progress and turn to him.

"Yes, Captain."

"Is there something I'm missing here? I thought you enjoyed the times we have been able to vacation together."

"Ordinarily, I do. However, I believe it best if I spent some time alone before my parents arrived."

"Does this have something to do with that Cadet told me about? The one for whom you've felt some sort of attraction?"

Spock hesitated, and then confessed. "At the end of last semester, I took her to the Brooklyn Bridge."

"The Brooklyn . . . " Pike appeared taken aback, since the bridge was a place of special significance between he and Spock.

"Sir, I take full responsibility for my actions. I was fully aware of the inappropriateness of this excursion given the Cadet and my prescribed relationship."

"The fraternization charge notwithstanding, Spock I'm frankly surprised you took her there. You didn't tell her our story about the day we became friends, did you?"

"Yes, sir, I did."

Pike looked away from his friend not clearly understanding why he felt hurt by this revelation. While he never told Spock not to tell anyone, the Captain assumed it to be such an intimate experience that the Vulcan would not think to share it with someone else.

Sensing Pike's discomfort, Spock asked, "Have I upset you, sir?"

"No, Spock." Pike lied, as he turned back toward the Vulcan. "But I suppose this woman must mean more to you than I thought."

"I thought I was in love with her."

"Love, Spock?"

"Do you find that to be so surprising, Captain? Did you not think a Vulcan could be capable of such an emotion?"

"No, Spock, of course not. It's just that I know you would never use that word frivolously. In the years I've known you, I've found you not to be a stranger to women, but Leila Kalomi was the only one you've ever admitted you loved."

"I confessed my love for Leila to you, but I could not find the voice to say those words to her. Early in our relationship, this did not appear to be such an issue for her. She told me, 'I understand, Spock. I know how you feel and that's enough for me." He paused for a moment as if hearing her words anew. "However, there came a time when she began to resent my inability to speak these words to her. I could feel her drifting away from me and for some reason I felt paralyzed to do anything about it." Spock paused surprised at the difficulty he experienced trying to say, "Then, one day she left me."

Pike searched for the right words to say, but his first response seemed inadequate. "I'm sorry, Spock. I didn't know."

"Despite my parentage, I made a choice to be Vulcan. I do not regret that decision, but sometimes the ways of my people . . . the manner in which I conduct myself may appear _alien_ to humans."

"But Spock, although you opted to live as a Vulcan, we both know there is something very much human within you."

"Sir, I see no reason to insult me."

Pike began to apologize when he suddenly identified the mischievous sprite making its appearance from within his friend. "So, you made a joke. A lame joke, but a joke nevertheless."

"While I do take issue with your assessment of my comedic skills, we should probably be on our way. Jack is probably awake by now and needs help with the preparation for his journey."

"You're right. The last time I let him try to pack without my supervision, he remembered everything except his underwear. I thought I'd never hear the end of his mother blaming me for that oversight."

The two men resumed their walk toward the Academy campus. Pike knew he probably should not bring up the subject, again. However, he wanted to take advantage of the fact the Vulcan appeared to be in the mood to open up to him about the subject.

"Spock, did you ever tell Leila about the bridge?"

"No, I did not."

"But you brought the Cadet there?"

"Although my plan was ill-conceived in hindsight, I believed the bridge would help me to initiate a measure of intimacy with her. As you know the bridge has a way of exposing truths that may under other conditions be difficult to express."

"Earlier you said you thought you were in love with her. Did you disclose this sentiment to the Cadet?"

"There were no words of affections between us and even now I am not sure if the Cadet's desire to begin a romantic relationship mirrored my own. Since that day I spent with her on the bridge, I have spent many hours of analysis on the matter, but there are aspects of it for which I doubt if there can be any identifiable satisfactory conclusions."

"Spock, you cannot expect to analyze matters of the heart as if it were a research projects."

"I know no other way."

"You are not going to reach a sense of closure unless you more fully come to terms with your experience."

"Captain, I am not sure that is my intention."

Pike hardly expected that answer. "Spock, what do you mean by that?"

"Over ten years ago, Leila left me and I did not attempt to prevent her from doing so. While I never regretted having loved her, I have not lamented the dissolution of our relationship. I could not give her what she needed . . . . Correction . . . I was not willing to give her what she needed."

The Vulcan continued. "I cannot truthfully express the same sentiment in regards to the Cadet. Rationally, I know the unintended result of the experience at the bridge ultimately best serves the Academy interests. Moreover, since the Cadet's major field of study is not in the physical sciences, I doubt if there will be little opportunity or reason for the two of us to encounter one another in the future. Therefore, I should be able to go on with my professional responsibilities unaffected by her absence in my life."

As the two men reached Officers' Housing stopping in front of Pike's home, the Captain knew what his friend had left unspoken. "You're still in love with her, aren't you?"

Spock paused for a moment as if considering the question, before he confessed. "Yes, I believe I am still in love with her."

"Spock, do you understand the implications of your admission?"

"It is irrelevant whether I love her or not."

"Unresolved matters of the heart have a way of creating complications which usually begin to affect one's professional responsibilities."

"Captain, I am disciplined enough not to continue to pursue her, especially in light of what I now know about one of family members. During our experience on the bridge, she disclosed something about a close relative I found to be quite repugnant. While she shared her abhorrence for this relative's beliefs, the Cadet confessed her continued love for him." Pike noticed the Vulcan stiffen as he said, "I have tried to understand her reasoning, but I cannot reconcile her professed disdain for his convictions with her sustained affections for him. It is most illogical."

"Yes, almost as illogical as your love for her."

Spock could not refute the Captain's assertion. The Vulcan did not know why, but Spock still cared deeply for Uhura without knowing whether or not these sentiments were reciprocated. "Yes, my feelings for her are illogical and not without personal consequence."

"Poor appetite, restless nights, an inability to focus? Spock that kind of reaction is common in the game of love. The good news is that time will eventually heal these wounds."

"Sir, I am not suffering from any of the conditions you have identified." Uncharacteristically, Spock hesitated before he spoke. "This emotion I am now experiencing is strange to me. I do not recall dealing with it before."

"What is it, Spock?"

"Captain, I am lonely."

Within Spock's voice, Pike heard an unmistakable ache. Once again, the Captain felt he did not know the right words to say, so he stood with the Vulcan providing a silent comfort as a shield against his friend's despair. When he heard the sound of his communicator, Pike answered his son's call.

"Yes, Jack."

"Hey, Dad." The boy spoke. "I wanted to find out if you were on your way back home, yet."

"I'm right outside the door."

"Great. I need help finding my baseball glove. I want to take it on the trip with me."

"Jack – how many times have I told you that if you would just put your things away in their proper place, then you would be able to find them again."

"All right, Dad – but I still need help finding it."

"I'll be there in a minute. First, I want to finish up my conversation with Mr. Spock."

"Mr. Spock is out there? HEL-LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW, MR. SPOCK!"

Spock moved closer to the communicator. "Good morning, Jack. There is no need to modulate your amplitude."

"HUH?"

Pike intervened. "Jack, don't talk so loud. Mr. Spock can hear you as well as I can."

The boy laughs. "Oh, yeah. Right."

Hearing Jack's voice close by, the two men turn to find him outside with a communicator in hand. However, his appearance brought a rise out of his father.

"Jack, get back inside right now!"

"What's wrong, Dad?"

"You have nothing on, but boxer shorts."

"That's all you wear to bed."

"But it's not the right attire for the rest of the world to see." In full military voice, Pike commanded. "Get back in the apartment, right now mister!"

"Yes, sir." Jack said as he hurried back inside.

"That boy." Pike exclaimed as he shook his head.

Spock looked to Pike as he told him. "You should be proud to have a son who desires to model himself after his father."

"I don't know how long that will last." The Captain retorted half joking. "Like most kids, one day he'll wake up and come to the conclusion his father is an idiot."

There was no levity in Spock's tone when he replied. "The day that happens, I will be there to set the boy straight."

Spock's words reminded him he had no better friend than this Vulcan. When the communicator signaled, again, Pike immediately knew the caller's identity. "Jack, I'll be there in a minute to help you find your glove."

"That's not it, Dad. I mean I still haven't found my glove, but that's not the reason why I called."

"What is it, son?"

"I just wanted to make sure Mr. Spock is going with us to the SkyPort. It'll be over two weeks before I see him, again, and _he is_ part of the family – isn't he, Dad?"

In the years Pike had known the Vulcan, there were few times Spock was rendered speechless. This was one of those times as for the first time in his life, this Terran world suddenly felt like _home_.

Jack asked. "Dad, could you hand the communicator to Mr. Spock? I want to ask him."

As Pike saw the pride shinning in his friend's eyes, he answered. "Don't worry, son. Mr. Spock will join us."

Sitting near one of the gates at the SkyPort, Uhura and Gaila engaged in a lively discussion while waiting for the boarding call for Gaila's flight.

"Why can't you just answer the question?" Uhura asked.

"It's not a comfortable question."

"Gaila, please, I really want to know."

"All right . . . all right. No, I don't think you're a bigot. Yes, my first couple weeks at the Academy you did sort of treat me like a lab rat asking me all kinds of intrusive questions."

"Intrusive questions?"

"Before I could even tell you my name, you started asking me all sorts of questions about Orion traditions – especially about the slave women culture which nobody outside our people can truly understand. With your probing, you made me reluctant to come back to my own room."

"I was as bad as all that?"

Seeing the remorse in her friend's face, Gaila softened her tone. "I said it was just for the first few weeks. After a while, you gradually started treating me as though I were human."

"But, that's no good either. There's got to be a way to respect and celebrate the uniqueness of someone else's culture without turning them into imitations of our own species before we can become friends."

"Oh, Uhura – maybe you expect too much of yourself. Yes, I expect others to tolerate my people and our ways unless we are somehow encroaching on their rights, freedoms or way of life. However, it is natural for someone from one species to look for commonalities with another species within the context of one's own culture and traditions. It would almost be impossible to approach it using any other tactic." Startled by her own statements, the Orion sighed. "I really do need to get home. I'm sounding as analytical as a Vulcan and too connected to those machines I have to deal with every day in my field. I can't wait to go home for a while."

"You're a very intelligent woman, Gaila. You ought to let more people know that."

"Do you see? What you just said proves you're not a bigot, Uhura. Most humans don't see me the way you do. The men mistake our progressive attitude toward sex to mean I'm an easy fuck and Terran women absolutely hate me."

Uhura could not deny Gaila's characterization of human prejudices toward her people. She also knew Orion women accepted into the Academy had to consent to weekly injections to counteract the potential effects of powerful pheromones naturally produced by their body chemistry.

Gaila continued. "When I first came to the Academy, I did not want to be automatically assigned to room with another Orion female. You don't know how long it took for them to find a human willing to share a space with me. The administration finally asked you and I'm glad they did."

"Yeah, but apparently I agreed to the arrangement for all the wrong reasons."

"Who cares the motive behind your original intent, it all turned out for the best. I couldn't ask for a better roommate or friend."

Uhura reached across to touch the Orion's hand. "I'm sorry if my treatment of you initially made you uncomfortable. However, I do not regret the friendship that has grown from its dubious beginnings."

Smiling, Gaila places her free hand over Uhura's. "So roommate, now that we've had this heart to heart about tolerance and respect for diverse cultural traditions – how about lightening up on the _no bringing men to our room for fun_ rule."

Uhura withdraws her hand. "You mean my _no bringing men to our room for sex_ rule."

"It's the same thing."

"Look, Gaila you agreed to it as a condition of moving in with me."

"I was desperate. I told you I had a difficult time being matched with someone."

"It didn't matter the person's color, race, species or creed – I wouldn't have it any other way. It's not fair to inconvenience your roommate, while you're monopolizing the space for your own pleasure."

"Who said anything about monopolizing the space? I wouldn't mind if you were there and there are men who find it quite a turn on if – "

"Gaila, I don't find it to be a spectator sport and I certainly would never join in on a ménage a trois."

"Who said anything about limiting it to three?"

"Gaila!"

The Orion's laughter fills the space between them. "Oh, Uhura, I'm just playing with you. It just seems you're so uptight about sex – even based on human standards."

"I'm not uptight about sex." She countered. "I'm just much more discerning about my partners."

"Partners? Uhura, you know you've never even done it."

"I've had sex before. I've been dating since I've been 16."

Skeptical. "How are you defining sex?"

"Sexually motivated behavior."

"For you that means . . . "

Uhura squirmed nervously in her seat. "Kissing – I really like kissing . . . a lot . . . a heavy kissing session really turns me on."

"What else?"

"There have been times when kissing has led to . . . petting."

"Really? How many times?"

"I remember . . . " Uhura felt a discomforting heat accompanying her recollections. " . . . a few times when things went a little further than expected."

"How far did it get?"

"Oh . . . fairly hot."

Gaila drily commented. "You're still a virgin, aren't you?"

"Why do you say it like that?"

"Like what?"

"As though I should be ashamed of it or something."

"I did not. I just stated it as a matter of fact. Listen, Uhura, you're the one who seems to be embarrassed about it. Contrary to popular belief, our people really are quite open-minded about it. I mean, there is no way I personally could be as _old_ as you and not had sex." The Orion's face suddenly brightened when she informed her friend, "Now that I think of it, you would fetch quite a high price on the sex market in the Tellurite system."

With little enthusiasm, she replied. "Thanks for sharing." Uhura covered her face with her hands.

"What's wrong now?"

"We're in a public place talking about sex."

"Nobody's listening to us."

"What if someone is secretly recording us and this conversation ends up on some type of reality show?"

"Uptight."

"I am not uptight!"

Unconvinced, Gaila queried, "Are you ready to take her hands down from your face, yet?"

Realizing how foolish she must look, Uhura uncovered her face.

Gaila waited a moment, before she asked, "Who is he?"

"Who is _who_?"

"You know, the guy you're saving yourself for?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Last semester you went out with the gang as much as you did your first year, but when you were asked out on dates you always turned them down."

"The workload was heavier this year, than last. I needed more time to devote to my studies."

"I remember specifically one instance you turned down a date with Kelsey Mackintosh, saying you were too tired. Yet, you somehow found the energy to go out with Kirk and McCoy that same night."

"Is there a problem with turning down _one_ date?"

"Then, last week I looked for you after your Ethics class with Mr. Spock. I could usually find you in the language lab, but that day you weren't there. I then looked for you in all the usual places, but I still couldn't find you."

"I don't understand why you're bringing that up."

"It was so unlike you to just go off like that without telling anybody."

"Gaila, I appreciate your concern, but sometimes you treat me like a child. I decided to go for a long walk. There's no mystery in that."

"You were gone for over three hours."

"Why are you just asking me about this, now?"

"Because I thought you would tell me about it when you were ready, but apparently I'm not really the friend you claim I am."

Gaila disappointment showed in her eyes. Uhura knew she had to tell her something or her earlier apology to the Orion would appear hollow.

"There is someone . . . I mean there was possibly someone, but it's over now."

Gaila's smile signaled her quick change in mood. "I knew it. Details, Uhura."

"There's really not much to tell. I became attracted to someone at the Academy."

"Who?"

"I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"There would be some who would consider it to be inappropriate."

"A married man? Uhura you're involved with a married man?"

"No . . . no, he's not married."

"He's a minor."

"Gaila – heavens no. Remember who you're talking to."

"Right . . . right. Is he an old man?"

"Wrong again. Now no more guessing or I won't have a chance to finish the story before your flight is called. Just leave his identity a mystery."

"OK – go on."

"Last week, the day I was gone for three hours, I was with him."

"Where did you go?"

"Brooklyn."

"Brooklyn, New York! How did you get there and back in three hours?"

"We used a transporter."

"Oh, this is getting good. He took you all the way across the country by transporter. What happened? Did he take you to a hotel room?"

"No, nothing like that. We went for a walk on a bridge."

Her voice could not her letdown. "You really went for a walk? It was just a walk?"

"Yes. I'll never forget it."

"Why did he take you all the way across the country just to walk across a bridge? There certainly are plenty of more convenient bridges to choose from here in the Bay area."

"It had to be a particular bridge . . . the Brooklyn Bridge."

"Why _that _bridge?"

"He wanted to share something about himself . . . a story of special significance to him which had taken place on that bridge over a decade ago. The story . . . the story touched my soul."

Unable to contain her excitement, Gaila could not help, but exclaim, "_The story touched my soul. _Oooooh . . . Uhura how romantic! A man who can use words to turn on a woman is hard to find nowadays. So, is that when you two started making out?"

"No, Gaila . . . no." Over the sound system came the first call for boarding the flight to Orion. Becoming exasperated, Uhura told her, "Listen, why don't I just wait to tell you the rest of this after you return from the holidays."

"Oh, please, Uhura, finish it. We have time. It was just getting good."

Uhura hesitated, but in a week's time she had not told anyone else about it – not even the _precious ones_. Strangely, she felt somewhat relieved to unburden herself of the experience. "After he told his story, there was a moment . . . a moment when I was sure he would kiss me . . . I mean . . . _I _wanted him kiss me."

When Uhura paused, Gaila thought she would burst with anticipation. Somehow she found a way to use her self-control to hold her tongue.

Uhura continued. "Then, just as he reached his hand toward me . . . I stepped away from him." A brief gasp escaped Gaila's lips. "I needed to tell him something about myself . . . something about my family which I thought may have some bearing on the future of our relationship. So, I told him and he . . . he no longer wanted me."

Gaila watched as Uhura lowered her head and a single tear fell down her face. The second call for boarding was heard.

"Uhura, what could you have possibly told him? I can't imagine anything you could've said that would've made any difference."

Unable to speak, Uhura could only shake her head from side to side.

"You're in love with him, aren't you?"

Barely above a whisper, she confessed, "I think so."

"Last call for the shuttle to Omicron Starship Flight 5602."

Galia hurriedly retrieved a tissue from her bag and dabbed Uhura's tear stained face. "Uhura, I hate leaving you like this, but I've got to go." Uhura rose up from her seat with the Orion. Followed by the African Cadet, Gaila quickly began walking toward her gate. "Now promise me you'll actually do something fun over the holidays. Don't just bury yourself in your language tapes or accept more security detail than you're obligated to serve. Isn't Kirk also going to be around?" She handed her flight card to the Starship Agent.

"Like me, he does really have anywhere to go for the holidays."

"You know you could have come home with me."

"I don't think I would have been much fun."

After receiving her flight card, Gaila embraced her friend. "You let Kirk get you out of that gloomy mood. He's good for that, at least."

"Gaila, you better be on your way. I don't want you to miss your flight."

"Oh, yeah. Good-bye, Uhura."

"Safe journey, Gaila."

Uhura watched as the sliding doors of the gate parted to allow the Orion to enter. Suddenly, Gaila turned back toward her. "Hey, don't only Starfleet officers have clearance to use Terran transporter sites?"

Gratefully, the gate door closed before Uhura had to make up an answer. _Sometimes Gaila is too smart for my own good._

Not wanting to pay for a SkyCab back to the Academy, Uhura decided to purchase a bus ticket. Seeing a sign advertising the tickets outside one the SkyPort shops, she entered not expecting to hear a familiar voice.

"A pack of Wham-O Cinnamon gum . . . the sugarless variety, please."

Uhura looked toward the counter and her eyes confirmed what she heard. It was Mr. Spock. As he paid for the item, she told herself to leave, but could not will her feet to move.

When the Vulcan picked up the pack of gum from the counter and turned to leave, he stopped suddenly as his eyes caught sight of Uhura standing before him. Dressed in a light jacket, simple white tunic and jeans, her finely braided hair hung down loosely about her shoulders and framed her face. He had not seen her since the day he took her to the Brooklyn Bridge. With the semester over, no reason remained for him to have regular contact with her . . . yet . . . _I miss seeing her._

The Cadet confessed to her father's xenophobic convictions . . . yet . . . _I want to be with her._

Uhura would not deny her love for a man who would condemn the Vulcan's presence on Earth . . . yet . . . _Somehow, I need her_.

For a brief moment, Spock met her imploring eyes causing his impassive mask to seem on the verge of slipping away.

Spock handed the pack of gum to Jack as he sat with his father near a flight gate.

"Thank you, Mr. Spock. You remembered that Wham-O Cinnamon is my favorite!" The boy quickly opened the pack and removed a stick.

As Spock took a seat next to Pike, the Captain prompted his son. "Jack, are you forgetting something?"

"Dad, I've already thanked him."

"Anything else?" When the boy stared at him blankly, Pike pointed to the stick Jack held in his hand.

"Oh, yeah! Mr. Spock, would you like a piece?" When there was no response, the boy repeated his question so loudly he startled other waiting passengers.

"Jack." Pike sighed.

"I'm sorry, Dad, but it did not seem like Mr. Spock could hear me."

Spock finally spoke. "Thank you for asking, but gum seems to contain properties that cling to Vulcan teeth."

"That's funny, Mr. Spock."

The Vulcan began to question the source of the humor, but Pike stopped Spock's query with the shake of his head. The Captain once said there was no point in wasting energy by questioning the senseless logic of a pubertal male.

As Pike helped himself to one of sticks of gum, Jack rose and announced, "I'm going to the bathroom."

Pike stood up from his seat. "All right, let's go."

"Dad, do you have use the bathroom, too?"

"No, but I thought I'd go with you."

Jack lowered his voice. "Dad, I'm not a kid any more. I can go to the bathroom all by myself. OK?"

"OK." Pike reclaimed his seat as he watched his son walk away. "How soon we forget. I remember my mother made me go to public bathrooms with her until I was ten years old. That was _really_ embarrassing."

The Captain looked toward his friend, again, who appeared not to be listening. "Spock." No response. Pike called his name a little louder. "Hey, Spock."

"Yes, sir."

"Since you returned from purchasing that gum for Jack, you've appeared to be deep in thought."

_The Cadet remained in his mind's eye._

"I have been contemplating your offer to join you for the excursion to St. Maarten."

_Uhura stood before him with imploring eyes._

"I believe I could use some time away from the Academy."

_He could not find the voice to tell her all that was true to his heart._

"After all, relaxation does have proven physiological and psychological benefits."

_Fear had now become the companion of the usually self-assured and confident Vulcan._

"And, I would not want to disappoint Keiko or her friend after such arrangements had been made."

_He could not bear it . . . he could not bear it if he knew she would not return his affections . . . he did not want know that she did not need him._

"If your proposition still remains open to me - "

_So, it was only logical not to know._

"I will accept it."

Pike happily clapped him on the shoulder and assured his friend, "You will have the time of your life."

But Spock could only think of Uhura when he swore to himself - _I will learn to live my life without you._

Sitting alone on a bench outside the SkyPort waiting for a bus, Uhura had little success in calming her anger. The thick, dark clouds overhead seemed to fuel her wrath.

_Mr. Spock walked past me without saying a word . . . not even a nod to acknowledge my existence! _

_He walked past me and like a love-sick school girl I watched him move through the corridor until he was out of sight._

_I swear I will not waste another tear on Mr. Spock. He's made it quite clear he no longer wants anything to do with me. In fact, I'm not sure if he ever cared for me at all!_

_Well, if this was an experiment to see if I could live without this man, I'll gladly accept that challenge._

_Mr. Spock, from this day forward you are officially a persona non grata in regards to my foolish heart – so help me God!_

A sudden cloudburst sent a torrent of rain down upon Uhura just as her bus pulled up to the stop. After Uhura boarded the vehicle, none of the other passengers understood why the drenched young woman could only laugh as she shivered in her seat.

**Author's Note:**

Term Definition – persona non grata is Latin for unwelcome person.

The next chapter will be up within 7-10 days. Your comments are always welcome.


	24. Chapter 24 Without You Part II

**Author's Note:** Chapter 24 is the second part of a storyline depicting a period of schism between Uhura and Spock. Taking place during Uhura's second year as a cadet at Starfleet Academy, this chapter features Uhura and Kirk, as well as fellow cadet Jordan Williamson and one of Uhura's _precious ones, _Habibah Mungai.The last section of this chapter relates to Uhura's ill-fated experience with Spock on the Brooklyn Bridge (see Chapters 20 – 22).

Dressed in her Academy uniform and standing before a small mirror in her dorm room, Uhura gathered her braids and pinned them together into a bun as Kirk stood by in his civilian clothes.

Kirk pleaded with her. "For Chrissakes, Uhura, it's Christmas Eve!"

"I think I am far more aware of what day this is than you."

"Then why doesn't that seem to make a difference to you. You and I were scheduled for security detail December 26 to December 30."

"I told you I have orders from Commander Sumar to report for duty – ASAP. Denison has the flu and I'm being asked to fill in for him."

"So, why didn't you just tell Sumar that you have the measles, small pox, Regillian fever or something?"

"Right. And, then I'm spotted in town with you and find myself getting written up for violating the honor code."

"With your squeaky clean record, a few demerits won't hurt you."

Turning to him with hands on hips, she told him, "Listen, Kirk, maybe you're running some kind of experiment to see how many demerits you can pick up before being thrown out of here. However, that's not my plan. Taking on this duty tonight will leave me with just four more days of security detail. Then I'll have the rest of the holidays to myself."

"Yeah, so you can take up residence in the language lab."

Uhura returned to putting the final touches to her hair. "I've got other plans."

"Let's see, will you be studying Bajoran syntax or Tellarite phonemic systems?"

Caught, she chose not to try to cover up her intentions. "So, what's wrong with that? I'll have a few days of play and a few days of study."

"Knowing you, after tonight it'll be two days of worship services, four days of security detail, eight days of study and 17 minutes of play – that is, if you can find the time to possibly enjoy yourself before the Academy begins Winter semester."

"It's not going to be quite like that. You're making me sound as if I don't want to - " The door buzzer interrupted her. "Who can that be?"

"Maybe it's the Ghost of Christmas Past."

As she walked to the door, she retorted. "You know that was really lame."

Uhura opened the door and there stood a tall, statuesque dark-skinned woman covered in gift bows. She shouted, "Kuwa na Krismasi njema!"

Uhura screamed, "Habibah!" Throwing her arms around her, the women embraced while excitedly jumping up and down. Finally stopping their leaps, they launched into a rush of Swahili overlapping each other as they spoke.

"Hey!" Kirk shouted to get their attention.

Habibah turned to Kirk ominously. _If looks could kill . . . _ About an inch taller than the Iowan, she looked him up and down as she asked him in standard Federation, "What are you? One of her _girlfriends_?"

Without flinching, Kirk retorted, "You may look like an idiot and talk like an idiot, but that doesn't fool me. You really _are_ an idiot."

Just before her friend had time to unleash a scathing rejoinder, Uhura stepped in between the two. "Time out!" Despite the command, Habibah and Kirk continued to glare at each other. "Hey, you two. Take off your boxing gloves so I can introduce you." When there was no change in their stance, Uhura turned directly to Habibah and spoke to her pointedly in Swahili.

"Habibah, adui yako hapa."

Although hearing Uhura's words, Habibah kept a wary eye on Kirk.

Uhura took a breath and then tried to cut the tension by assuming a conciliatory tone of voice. "James, I would like you to meet one of the _precious ones_, Habibah Mungai. Habibah, this is James Tiberius Kirk. He's . . . he's . . . " Uhura searched for the right words to describe her relationship to her fellow cadet, but nothing came quickly to mind. "Well, he's not my _girlfriend._" Her bright smile and gentle laugh seemed to ease any remaining hostility in the room.

While Kirk and Habibah made no move to shake hands or even acknowledge each other, they now seemed more focused on their mutual friend than on each other.

"All right. I better get out of here." Uhura grabbed her communicator and tricorder from her desk, and then retrieved a jacket from her bed as she headed toward the door.

"I've only got 48 hours before I have to get back to New York. Where are you going?" Habibah exclaimed.

"Kirk will tell you." Turning back to them as she opened the door, she warned, "You two be nice to each other. After all, it is Christmas Eve." Kirk and Habibah watched as Uhura disappeared behind the closing door.

Disappointed to see her leave, Habibah dropped her purse down unto Uhura's bed. She then pulled off the gift bows from her body and slapped each one down on Uhura's desk.

"Why did she have to leave in such a hurry?'

"Security detail. Neither one of us had anywhere to go for the holidays, so we volunteered to serve at this time so we wouldn't pull the duty next semester."

"So, why aren't you joining her?"

"Neither one of us was scheduled to work tonight, but she got a call to take the place of a cadet who _suddenly_ became ill."

"Shit!" Habibah spat out as she slapped another bow on the desk.

"Did you come decorated all the way from New York?"

Habibah gave him a _Are you insane? _ look, as she answered, "I had the bows in my bag and put them on outside her room. Do you have any more _stupid_ questions?"

Kirk did not have a reason to remain any longer in the dorm room. Uhura could not be persuaded to shirk her duty and Habibah certainly did not appear to welcome his presence. In fact, the Iowan could not imagine why Uhura had any association at all with this sour woman. Yet, looking at her Kirk thought, _This woman might actually be attractive if she would just keep her mouth shut. _She proudly wore her kinky hair in an asymmetrical hairstyle that complemented her sculptured face. Her tall frame covered by dark chocolaty skin, Habibah dressed in a waist length faux-leather jacket. Her tailored slacks showed off her long shapely legs, while accenting her round, but taut ass. He mused, _This had to be one of nature's tricks to wrap an acerbic woman in such an appealing package._

"What are you looking at?" She questioned him.

"I was just wondering . . . " He had to think fast. Considering the continuing discord between them, this was not the time to disclose she had a_ fine _ass. "I was just wondering how you got all the way to Uhura's dorm without her being alerted. The general public isn't just allowed to roam around a military academy at will."

"Then I guess there must be a reason why I do not fall within those restrictions." She reached into her bag and withdrew her identification.

Eyeing her credentials, Kirk laughed upon realizing the irony of the revelation. "_You_ are a member of the diplomatic corps?"

Kirk's amused reaction unexpectedly broke the ice between them. Something that could possibly pass for a smile appeared on her face as she sarcastically replied, "Why do you find that so hard to believe?"

Kirk laughed, again, and this time the broadened smile of Uhura's friend left no doubt of their shared amusement.

"Habibah, I bet after your flight, you're probably a little hungry."

"I'm famished."

"Would you like to go to dinner with me?"

"Would I like to go with _you_? No. But, my stomach is overruling my better sense."

_Why was this woman suddenly so enticing to me? _"What type of food are you into?"

"Well, I know it's not politically correct in this day and age, but I'm definitely a red meat eater. To me, veggies just get in the way of a good meal."

"And, what type of medication do you prefer – soft or hard?"

"Depends on the intent. Now, are we just going out to have a few beverages which complement our cuisine or do you want to get wasted?"

"Since Christmas Eve only happens once a year, I vote for the later. I know just the place."

"Well, all right." Habibah retrieved a key card from her purse and placed it on the desk. Kirk watched as she picked up Uhura's iTablet.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm leaving an extra key and a note, so she can join me at my hotel after her shift and stay for the rest of the time I have left in the city. I'm sure she doesn't want to spend Christmas alone. That's why I'm here."

His raw, defensive tone exposed his feelings toward Uhura. "She wasn't going to spend Christmas alone. That's why _I'm_ here."

Habibah stepped back to better take in the blond, rugged looking young man. Then, she stated, "You're in love with her, aren't you?"

"Yes." He replied with no hesitation.

"Me, too." Habibah picked up her purse. "Let's go. I can see we have a lot to talk about." The African woman headed out the door with Kirk close behind her.

Dressed in their uniforms and a jacket for warmth, Uhura and fellow Cadet Jordan Williamson walked about the perimeter of the campus.

Uhura pressed a code on her tricorder as she spoke. "Northwest sector secure."

"Do you really think it's a coincidence that two of the overtly Christian cadets find themselves working on Christmas Eve?"

"Oh, Jordan." She laughed softly. "I didn't know you were prone to conspiracy theories."

"How else can you explain it? The two people assigned to this detail suddenly become ill and the only cadets Commander Sumar could find to take their place happened to be two Christians who find religious significance in the season."

"There may be only a skeleton squad on duty, tonight, but we're not the only ones_."_

Unconvinced, he gave a terse reply. "Right."

When Jordan quickened his pace, Uhura playfully called after him. "I think I know what is getting to you and it has nothing to do with an infringement on religious freedom. _Is she here?_"

"Is _who _here?"

Uhura ran in front of Jordan, and then turned to face him in order to stop her partner in his tracks. "Jordan Williamson – you know very well who I'm talking about. Did your _fiancé _make a surprise visit to see you?"

Found out, Jordan revealed, "Linda was supposed to be off-planet involved in field research for her master's thesis. But at the last minute she decided to put off her project until her university held its spring break. She called me from the city SkyPort to see if I could pick her up, but I was already committed to this assignment."

"Poor baby . . . poor baby . . . " Uhura repeatedly cooed, while sashaying around him.

Jordan could not help, but laugh at her silly display. "All right – all right!" The two resume their prescribed route. "I'm going to meet Linda at the Baybridge Inn after we get off of duty. However, we of course are going to make it to the Christmas service at St. Marks where I am told a certain cadet from Starfleet Academy will be featured with a solo."

"How did you find _that_ out?"

"The question is, why would you want to keep your solo from me?"

"Oh, Jordan, I knew if you were here for the holidays you wouldn't have missed the service at St. Marks. Telling you ahead of time would have spoiled the surprise."

"You know you can't keep anything secret from me."

"Is _that _right? And just what secret do you think I've been keeping from you lately?"

"At the end of the semester, I heard from a reliable source there was dark, petite young woman dressed in a cadet's uniform seen entering the Starfleet transporter station with a tall man wearing officer attire."

Uhura tried to keep tone of voice even, so not to expose her surprise at his discovery. "Do you have an ID? Those descriptions could fit a number of people at the Academy."

"The person with this information couldn't ID the officer, since the onlooker was at a distance and saw you both from behind walking toward the station. But the physique of the cadet supposedly looked quite a bit like you. Was it you, Nyota?"

"You know I asked you not to use my first name at the Academy."

"Who else is going to hear us? Is there even more than a couple of dozen people left on campus?

"That's not the point."

"The point is you're just trying to evade my original question. Was that _you_ at the transporter station or not?"

Uhura had never lied to Jordan. "Yes, it was me."

"And the officer?"

Uhura stopped their movement with the touch of her hand on his forearm. She then turned toward him wearing one of her smiles.

"Do you know what I love about you, Jordan?"

"No, but I have a feeling I'm going to find out."

"You treat me as though you believe I have some common sense. You have faith I am well grounded and know how to handle myself. Am I right?"

Jordan held the earnest young woman in his gaze. "How could I disagree with you?"

"Well, you certainly have done so in the past. And, as one of my closest friends, I don't want you to stop letting me know when you think I'm headed in the wrong direction. However, I need for you to trust me enough to let me decide when I need to bring those matters to your attention. And right now, I'm fine. I really am."

"You know, you're making it harder and harder for me to think of you as my kid sister."

"Good! After all, I had that huge crush on you when we were undergrads. The last thing a woman wants to hear is that the guy she has the hots for thinks of her as his _kid sister_."

Their laughter filled the air. They stopped as Jordan used his tricorder to report on the security status of the northern sector.

Continuing their patrol, Jordan told her, "I'm sorry if I hurt your feminine pride, but you know I care about you. I care about you very much. And if I seem overprotective at times, it is not because I don't think you can handle yourself. We all need help sometime. It takes a village to -"

"- _raise a child!"_

"To look out for each other."

"That's not quite how I remember that Yoruba proverb."

"It still speaks the truth."

Uhura knew where Jordan was headed and realized he would not give up until he got the information he was seeking. She decided to give him _a little something_, so he would feel satisfied he had fulfilled his self-appointed guardian role.

"The officer took me on a field trip."

The tone of his voice left no doubt of his skepticism. "A field trip? So, this officer must have been a faculty member. Where did you go?"

"Brooklyn, New York. The Brooklyn Bridge to be exact."

"This officer authorized the use of a military transporter station to take you to the Brooklyn Bridge? Was he trying to make a sale?"

"He told me a story."

"I'm sure he did."

"Do you want me to tell you about it or not?"

"OK . . . go on."

Uhura took a breath and began to recall the tale as Mr. Spock had recounted it to her. "It was a story . . . a myth concerning the aftermath of WWIII, when a group of survivors gathered at the Brooklyn Bridge. A woman people later called Harriet Tubman led them there. I vaguely remembered this account in a history course I took back in grade school, but when he told it . . . he seemed to give it new meaning."

"A history lesson."

"No, Jordan. It was a lesson in humanity."

Sitting at one of the tightly packed tables at a city pub, Kirk had long ago eaten his dinner. The cadet now entertained himself in the noisy tavern by watching Habibah wrap her luscious lips about the bone of her porterhouse steak and suck it with delight.

"Mabel?"

"No."

"Consuelo?"

"No."

"Helga?"

"Kirk, she was born in _East Africa_ to _African parents_. What are the chances her name is going to be _Helga_ Uhura?"

"I figure it has to be out of the ordinary or I would have guessed it so far."

"You haven't guessed it, because you aren't familiar with East African names. They're out of your cultural frame of reference. Why don't you just look up these names on a computer?"

"And then play a game of Rumpelstiltskin?"

"Rumpel who?"

"Rumpelstiltskin." Noting her blank look, he commented. "I guess that's out of _your _cultural frame of reference."

"Kirk, why don't you just give it up? You're never going to guess it."

"Then why don't you just help me out be telling me her first name?"

"Betray _her _trust? Hell no."

Habibah returned her attention to sucking her bone. In awe of her exhibition, his eyes only briefly left her face as he polished off his second stein of ale. Kirk commented, "I guess I should have gotten a Porterhouse like you, instead of a New York strip steak. It seems as if you're spending more time on the bone than you did on the meet."

The African woman removed the bone to answer him. "Meat is so expensive, you might as well enjoy the entire experience. Meat on the bone is more tender and succulent, than boneless cuts. And when you suck the bone, the saliva from your mouth helps to dissolve some of its minerals such as calcium, phosphorus, and magnesium. I can't think of a more nutritious treat."

As Habibah began to place the bone back in her mouth, she noted the cadet's intense stare. She asked, "So, what is it, Kirk? Do I look exotic or ridiculous to you?"

"I don't know if it is the beer or I'm horny, but I think I'm getting a hard on."

When a broad smile spread across her face, there was not mistaken her amusement. "I don't usually have that effect on men."

"Why do you think that?"

Having cleaned her bone thoroughly, she sat it down on her plate. "Most men don't seem to think about me in that way when they find out I'm lesbian."

"What difference does that make? After all, this is the 23rd century, not the dark ages."

"The dark ages for gay and lesbians in my country were not so long ago. Even today, there are some who harbor prejudices against us. They are just not as overt with their prejudices as they have been in the past."

"But it seems as if you've done all right for yourself. You don't look any older than Uhura, yet you've already gotten a position as a United Earth Cultural Attaché. That's pretty impressive."

She bristled. "I worked twice as hard and achieved more in college than any one of my peers in the diplomatic corps. No one gave me a damn thing."

"Lighten up, already. I wasn't implying otherwise. I thought I was paying you a compliment."

Habibah studied Kirk for a moment, who actually seemed to be sincere. Although Uhura never articulated it, Habibah knew this man was dear to her friend. _For Uhura's sake_, she thought, _I should at least try to be civil with him._ "All right. You did say something about being impressed."

"Don't leave out the adjective. I said your accomplishment was _pretty_ impressive."

"Thank you. However, not all of the people of my homeland share your opinion. Some are even ashamed of me."

"No culture has a monopoly on ignorant people."

"Is that supposed to ease the pain I've suffered to know there are idiots everywhere?"

"Look, I wasn't trying to belittle your past experiences."

"Who said they are _past?_"

Exasperated, he shouted over the din of the other patrons. "For the life of me, I can't see why Uhura could possibly be a friend of a _bitch_ like you!"

Several minutes passed, before either one spoke. Unexpectedly, Habibah first attempted to reach through the seemingly insurmountable wall that now separated them. "Come on outside."

"It's tempting – but I'm not going to fight you." Kirk replied half-heartedly.

"I don't want to fight you. I've got something to tell you."

After a moment's hesitation, Kirk showed her the way outside to the dimly lit back of the pub. There, Kirk looked warily at the tall African woman who stood across from him.

"All right. So, here we are." The cadet said. "What was so important that you had to come out here to tell me?"

"It was too loud in there for you to hear what I have to say."

"Which is?"

"I have no memory of not being her friend."

"Fine, I concede you've known her much longer than me. What difference does that make? Look, if this is just a continuation of the pissing match you started in Uhura's dorm room, I'll just go back in, pay my part of the bill and call it a night." Kirk started back toward the door when Habibah called to him.

"Kirk, please don't go. I have more to say."

Kirk halted, and then turned back around to her. "_Please_? That's progress. That'll buy you at least a few minutes."

Habibah did not know why she felt the need to disclose anything to this man. But, somehow she knew she must. "In Nairobi, my father and hers grew up together as neighbors. They went to the same schools, played the same sports, dated many of the same women and finally took positions at the same architectural firm. Those who knew them said at that time, they seemed to be inseparable. After one friend married, the other friend married shortly, thereafter. When one announced his wife was pregnant with a daughter, it was not many weeks before the other one came to his friend's home to tell of his own wife's pregnancy. After each of our births there were celebrations. And after her mother died when Uhura was still an infant, they say at the funeral both mourned openly for this woman. They say this tragedy appeared to bring our families even closer together. Up until Uhura and I were 16, I can recall only a handful of days she and I did not see each other."

Having become interested in the story, Kirk asked, "What changed at the age of 16? Was that when Uhura went to live with her Grandmother in West Africa?"

It took Habibah a few moments to find her voice to tell the rest of the account. "That year she would be sent to live with her Nana, but that was due to another reason unrelated to her family's relationship with mine. The incident I am talking about took place well before those circumstances that caused her to move to her grandmother's home."

"Then, what happened?"

"One evening her father and mine were working late at their office, while I was at Uhura's house studying homework with her. By 16, I had known I was lesbian for quite some time and I also knew I had come to have feelings for Uhura that went beyond friendship. I had not told anyone – not event Uhura - out of fear few would understand. When we completed our homework that night, as usual she walked me to the door. And on an impulse I decided to kiss her."

Before she continued, Habibah paused as if reliving the moment. "After I released her lips, she didn't back away. For a second I thought there was a possibility she shared my affections for her, _but _it was not to be. She told me she had deep feelings for me, _but_ like a sister. She wanted to continue to see me, _but_ I could not expect her to become something she was not. The only thing she did not try to qualify was her love for me. Although both of us knew her father would forbid our relationship if he were to learn of my sexual orientation, Uhura told me, '_Habibah, I will always love you_.'"

Kirk felt a hot flush across his face. _So what if this woman kissed her? So what if Uhura confessed her love for this woman? It wasn't the same as my relationship with Uhura. After all, my relationship with Uhura was . . . _Kirk could not finish his thought for although his jealousy was irrational, it clouded his mind.

"Do you still have romantic feelings for her?"

"Yes." Her unhesitant answer fed Kirk's ire.

"So, is that why you came to San Francisco? Did you think she'd be feeling so alone and vulnerable that she might fall prey to your affections?"

"Listen, I'm under no delusion she will want to be my lover one day. I've had a number of partners since my teenage years and several serious relationships. I'm not putting my life on hold waiting on Uhura that's for sure." Habibah moved closer to Kirk, so she stood no more than a foot away from him as she made her point. "And another thing, Uhura is not some _girl_ waiting around for someone to come _sweep her off her feet_. When _she_ decides what _she _wants, _she _will go after it."

Habibah had not told him anything about Uhura he did not already know. _A strong woman, who knows her own mind . . . fiercely steadfast and true . . . driven, yet compassionate . . . all the reasons why I love her so . . . I love her . . . I'm in love with Uhura. _Although not amorous, the two experienced a _familiar affection_ with each other. Although not romance, he knew they shared a _kindred spirit_. Although not sexual, there was an _intimacy_ between them that he had felt with few others. While no words could adequately describe it, he knew there was something _special_ about his relationship that he treasured with all his heart. Yet, this realization brought him no joy this night.

Kirk turned away from Habibah. He turned away from the one person who knew what he was feeling at that moment - _unrequited love._

Silence.

Kirk felt a warm hand on his shoulder. Although he wanted to do so, he did not immediately act on his impulse to remove it. He was in no mood to be consoled tonight.

"Kirk." She called out to him in a voice bathed in empathy.

No answer.

"Kirk. I've learned to move on. You can do it, too. You have to let go."

The cadet moved from her touch and turned toward her. The bitterness on his tongue exposed his state of mind. "Just because _you_ never had a chance with her, don't think you can give me any advice."

Although the words found their mark, Habibah did not waver. "My people have a saying – _tukisikia hatuelewi, tukijifuza tunajua*. _If we hear, we don't understand, if we learn we know."

"I'm not ready for _that_ lesson. I need her."

"Your declaration has no clothes. It stands there with its mouth open, but it cannot be fed."

"Well, _my people _have a saying, too. _Shit happens. _Should I translate _that_ for you?"

Ready to give up on this man, Habibah returned Kirk's satiric tone with an intense glare.

He continued. "This turned out to be an _enjoyable_ evening. Come on, Habibah. I'm sure you don't want to be with me any more than I want to be with you."

Agreeing with Kirk, Habibah took the first step toward the pub door when she heard her communicator sound, followed shortly by Kirk's. Checking their devices, they each find Uhura's simple text message - _Merry Christmas._

Touched by her friend's sentiment, Habibah wondered out loud, "It's not even past midnight. I wonder why she sent it now."

"Uhura's probably on meal break. Knowing the two of us, I'm sure she thought we needed a bit of Christmas cheer about now."

"Yeah, that sounds like her." Brightening, she commented, "She's probably sending out dozens of these messages individually as if she never heard of grouping her contacts so she can accomplish it with only a few keystrokes and one touch of a button. I don't know how many friends she has already made in her 24 years. Certainly many more than I'll ever make in a lifetime. Yet, she has this gift of treating each one as if he or she was the only one who really mattered. Once she lets you into her heart, she does not know how to let go."

Kirk could find no comfort in her truth. It may have been a selfish and unreasonable wish, but _he_ wanted to be the only one who really mattered to Uhura. And, if he did have a place in her heart, he never wanted to leave that place.

Habibah continued. "So, Kirk. How about you and I go back inside and find a little bit of that Christmas cheer? Do they serve anything stronger than that soda pop we were drinking earlier?"

"Behind the bar they keep a bottle of Absinthe Verte that's about 140 proof."

"140 proof sounds more like embalming fluid than a holiday spirit."

Kirk's eyes met hers and steadfastly held the African woman. "Are you with me or are you going to punk out on me?"

Habibah started for the tavern door, and then turned back to him to say, "Hey, what are you waiting for? The first round is on me."

At the end of their meal break at the Security Station, Uhura came out of the bathroom where she found Jordan standing nearby.

"Ready?"

As she put on her jacket and picked up her tricorder, she answered him. "Lead the way."

They exited the station and resumed their security route. "I was thinking about that Harriet Tubman story. It really is quite a testament to the best human beings have to offer: compassion, perseverance, creativity, love and a desire . . . no, it is more of a need to touch and be touched by someone else. But I am curious, why did this faculty member think it was so important to relate this myth to you of all people. I mean if you had been living during that period, you probably would have been Harriet."

Uhura laughed. "I don't know about that. I'm certainly not arrogant or delusional enough to claim I could have filled her shoes."

"I still don't get why he felt the need to take _you_ to the bridge?"

The insight caught her off-guard, but when it came to mind she recognized its validity. "When something inspires you . . . when something moves you - a song, book, philosophy, experience - you don't want to risk sharing it with _anybody_. You choose someone who you believe is a _kindred spirit_ . . . someone willing to share in something you find meaningful . . . someone wanting to touch and be touched . . . "

Uhura realized she had said too much. Despite their rancorous last meeting, she felt wanted to protect him. She needed to protect Mr. Spock.

She continued. "I see I'm getting a little carried away, when in fact it was really little more than an academic exercise. The incident may better be explained as the special effort of a faculty member granted for one of his eager students." Uhura had never before lied to Jordan . . . not until this moment.

"Who was the instructor? Didn't you have Grotowski last term for that required Modern Cultures class?"

"Yes." Uhura had never before misled Jordan . . . not until this moment. She wondered, _Why would I choose to cover for a man I hardly know, while being untrue to someone who means so much to me? _This paradox troubled her.

"Oh, yeah." Jordan commented. "I can see Grotowski thinking he was doing some student a favor by dragging him or her all the way to the other side of this country to take a firsthand look at the site of some historical event. At least it was a pretty good story and you seemed to enjoy it. Didn't you?"

Uhura could not escape her thoughts, which had returned to the Brooklyn Bridge . . . Mr. Spock took her to that place . . . told her the story of Harriet Tubman and the survivors . . . reached out his hand to her . . . but she did not accept it.

She told Spock of her father and his hatred for those of _his kind_.

She told him of her fear of being influenced by her Baba's xenophobic views.

She told him while she repudiated her father's prejudices, Uhura would not deny her affections for this man.

Uhura was different.

Mr. Spock was different

_How could there be any future between them?_

Jordan raised his volume. "Planet Earth to Nyota . . . Planet Earth to Nyota."

A bit startled, she looked to her friend.

"I asked you, did you enjoy your trip to the bridge?"

"Yeah . . . Sure."

Jordan noted an uncharacteristic hesitation in her voice, but decided not to pursue the matter. He would give her some space . . . _for now_.

In the days since the incident with Mr. Spock at the airport, the Vulcan had not been in the forefront of Uhura's mind. She looked forward to focusing on her linguistic studies and spending some time with Kirk over the holidays. The arrival that day of Habibah proved an unexpected, but delightful surprise. _So,_ she wondered, _why was Mr. Spock suddenly taking over her thoughts?_

Uhura needed to let him go, but she did not know how.

As though Spock had entrée to her thoughts, she reasoned, _Being in different disciplines, there will be few opportunities for me to have any further contact with you. Eventually, I will by circumstance and involvement with other men learn to live without you. So, I suppose for the time being it's all right if you're with me for a while. After all . . . there were times when I too wanted . . . no, I needed to be touched . . . and you did touch me._

Uhura found herself resigned to Spock's _presence_ until time allowed for him to fade from her memories. As Jordan posted their next security report on his tricorder, she voiced this sentiment quietly but from the heart, "Kuwa na Krismasi njema, Mr. Spock."

**Author's Note: **In the next chapter, we'll learn what Spock is thinking. You'll also find out about the incident which led to Kirk becoming enamored with Uhura.

**Translations:**

Kuwa na Krismasi njema = Merry Christmas

adui yako hapa = your enemy is not here

* Saying from "Swahili Proverbs." Center for African Studies, University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign. 


	25. Chapter 25 Without You Part III

**Author's Note:** Chapter 25 is the third part of a storyline depicting a period of schism between Uhura and Spock. Taking place during Uhura's second year as a cadet at Starfleet Academy, this chapter features Spock, Pike and a woman named Kaatje Pierson.Warning: Adult subject matter and language included; however, not enough to warrant a "M" rating.

On the island of St. Maarten, Kaatje Pierson stumbled out unto the patio of the cabana. Blinded by dawn's morning light, she tripped over the Vulcan not seeing Spock sitting cross-legged on his meditation mat. She did not stay sprawled on the ground for long as the strong arms of the Science Officer pulled up the blond, young woman and placed her effortlessly on one of the lounge chairs.

As Spock knelt beside her, he asked, "Ms. Pierson, will you be requiring medical attention?"

"Oh, no, Mr. Spock." Her face flushed with embarrassment. "I'm usually not so clumsy. I should actually be the one asking you if you're all right."

"I assess there was no damage to me physically."

"I'm glad to hear that." When the Vulcan did not move away from her immediately, she knew the shade of red on her face was deepening. In her line of work as a commercial starship attendant, she had dealt with a number of Vulcan passengers. However, until she and her best friend, Keiko, arrived at the cabana on Christmas Eve last night, she had never spoken more than a few perfunctory lines of dialogue to a member of the Vulcan race.

She asked, "Mr. Spock, is there something . . . else?"

"I am observing you to check for any latent effects from your fall."

"Oh, Mr. Spock, it isn't necessary. I'm fine. Really, I am. Probably a little tired, but that wasn't from the fall. There may be three bedrooms, but the walls are so thin they almost seem nonexistent."

Spock sat back on his legs. "The Captain and Keiko were definitely appreciably audible in their sexual activities last night."

"Last night and well into the morning. As a starship attendant and one of my closest friends, I've known Keiko for quite some time. But, even I didn't know until last night she had so much . . . stamina."

"The Captain's performance appeared up to par."

"Up to par to what?"

"With the high functioning sexual capabilities one would expect of a Starfleet Captain."

Spock looked at her curiously as she laughed. He had stated a fact and did not know why she found humor is his statement. "Ms. Pierson, are you sure you are functioning normally?"

"Of course, I am. Just what do I need to do to get you to believe me? _And_, what do I need to do for you to call me by my first name. My mother is Ms. Pierson. My name is Kaatje, but most of my friends just call me Kaat."

"As you wish, I will refer to you as Kaatje."

"Why not Kaat?"

"You stated your friends call you, Kaat. I could hardly be thought of as your friend, since we have not had sufficient time together to establish such a relationship."

"Last night, you certainly didn't act as if you cared about getting to know me at all. When Keiko and I arrived, you couldn't have said more than six words to us."

"That is incorrect. I actually spoke thirteen words. I said, _Good evening. I must return to my work_. _If you will excuse me._"

"Right. Then you headed back into your room and shut the door. That wasn't very flattering, now was it?"

Spock cocked his head slightly as if processing her reaction. "From your tone of voice, it appears you were somehow offended."

"What was I supposed to feel? After all, I thought the two of us were supposed to keep each other company, while Keiko and Chris were . . . _together._"

"Did you expect to fuck on the first night?"

A hot flash of anger came across her face as she rose up from the chair. "All right, now I really am offended." She headed back toward the entrance of cabana, but stopped when he called her name.

"Kaatje."

"Yes, _Mr. Spock."_

"Please explain the origin of your impulsive reaction."

She turned around sharply to face him. "Come on, Mr. Spock, don't play innocent with me. You are well aware of what you just said. _Did you expect to __fuck__ on the first night?"_

"Were you insulted by the use of the word or the presumption of your expectation?"

She retorted hotly. "Chris told Keiko you're a genius. Why don't you try to figure it out?"

"Your friend was the one who informed the Captain of the recent termination of a relationship with a man with whom you experienced several years of cohabitation. According to the Captain, you were _ready to be laid_. Are these circumstances not accurate?"

Kaatje lowered her eyes. She could not refute him, even when he added his next comment.

"And, does not the word – fuck – best describe the desired action you seek?"

"You could have used a _gentler_ term . . . like make love."

"_We_ are not in love. Such an engagement between us would be purely of a carnal nature." Spock noted her eyes cast downward. "Look at me." He commanded.

She quickly complied and took in his tall Vulcan frame. Dressed in his meditation robe, he appeared of noble bearing with a presence that bordered on being imposing. From the sudden dampness she felt between her legs, she knew she was becoming aroused.

"We will go to your bedroom. It is the furthest from the room occupied by the Captain and your friend and, thus, we are less likely to disturb them in the event the sounds of your screams travel beyond our enclosed space."

"Screams?" She asked incredulously.

"You do not appear to be the type of woman who would hold back her appreciation of well executed sexual acts."

The blatant arrogance titillated her even more. However, she was not ready to end the verbal foreplay. Unconvincingly, she feigned reluctance. "You weren't interested last night."

"When the Captain and I arrived on the island yesterday afternoon, I had a limited period to speak with my research assistants concerning ongoing projects back at the Academy. Before we arrived, the Captain prohibited me from spending any time in this endeavor on Christmas Day."

"What makes you so sure I would want to go to bed with you, now?"

Spock sighed. To him, her posturing was tiresome. "Even at the height of your indignation this morning, you did not leave my presence when I spoke your name. Moreover, your body is currently displaying several signs of sexual arousal . . . erect nipples, a pink flush across your skin, and a noticeable quickening of breath."

Kaatje's eyes unconsciously drifted down his torso and rested on his pelvis. However, the robe covered what she wanted to see. She wondered . . .

"Kaatje." He snapped.

She returned her look to his face as she laughed nervously. "Mr. Spock, may I ask you a question?"

"If you must?"

"I've never been with a Vulcan before . . . at least, not in_ that _way_. _ I never even saw one naked. Actually, I've never seen _any_ alien without clothes. So, I was wondering . . . " She laughed, again, nervously.

Spock was not amused, but surmised the intent of her rambling. He stated drily, "With the exception of a difference in hue, I can assure you the relevant sexual organ has the appearance and functions like those you have been accustomed. Now, are you ready to proceed or need I go to my room and take matters in my own hands?"

Kaatje did not hesitate. "Let's go, Mr. Spock."

The Belgium woman closed the door after they entered her room. As they stripped themselves of their clothes, she gasped at her discovery upon the removal of his robe.

As she positioned herself on the bed, she commented. "You must find me to be a complicated woman."

As he position himself over her, he retorted, "Without a doubt, I can attest to the fact that particular thought never crossed my mind."

Dressed in sunglasses and swim trunks, Pike lay on one of the lounge chairs outside the cabana. Still sore from the previous night's activities, he tried to direct his mind to other sensations - the heat of the sun's rays and the gentle sound of the surf of the Gulf of Mexico. Enjoying the tranquility of his surroundings, it would not be long before the quiet was broken by the presence of another one of the vacationers. Opening his eyes, he saw the tall Vulcan clad in a pair of broad shorts.

"Spock."

"I'm sorry, Captain. I did not mean to disturb you."

Pike grinned. "You should have thought of that earlier this morning when you and Keiko's friend were at it. That woman was so loud, she could wake the dead."

Knowing that feat to be impossible, Spock reasoned the phrase must be another human expression. "Her decibel level was definitely on the high end of that capable by members of your species."

"Your species, too."

"While I do have a human mother, my physiological makeup, cultural identity and mental processes is decidedly Vulcan."

With Spock standing over him, Pike could not help but take in his friend's finely toned and taut body. As if sculpted, fine black hair covered his chest in a shape of a "V," with the tip of the vertex suggestively pointing the way to his genitals. No matter his biological makeup, Spock's physique revealed in this manner was the source of sexual attraction for women and, at times, men. Half-jokingly, Pike commented, "Have a seat Spock, you're about to get me all hot and bothered and I don't even bat for that team."

In one of those rare moments, Spock appeared perplexed. "Although I once assisted your son with batting practice and attended a few of his baseball games, I am a loss for the meaning of your metaphor."

Knowing it probably would be best to be left unexplained, Pike simply told him, "Sit down, Spock."

Spock complied by sitting sideways facing Pike in a nearby chair.

The Captain continued, "Now turn your body so that your back leans against the chair and your legs are stretched out before you in a relaxed position."

Noting his friend's reclined pose, Spock asked, "Am I to mirror your posture, sir?"

"That's right."

Spock appeared clueless to the reasoning behind the request, but followed Pike's instruction as he always had done in the past.

Pike added, "Now close your eyes."

When Spock complied, Pike did the same and the two men remained unmoved for several minutes. Finally Spock broke the silence.

"Captain?"

"Yes, Spock."

"What is your next instruction?"

Speaking as quietly as possible. "There is no other instruction. Just be still."

"What is the purpose of taking this position?"

"We're just lying here."

"Just lying here, sir? On what should I focus my mind?"

Becoming annoyed, Pike was in no mood for this line of questioning. "Nothing, Spock."

"Nothing, sir?"

"Yes, nothing."

"That does not appear to be an effective use of time."

Pike opened his eyes. "Then meditate."

"On what, sir?"

"On nothing. Think about nothing!"

"Captain, meditation is an active process which requires a clear point of focus."

With a strained voice, he told the Vulcan, "We're just relaxing and taking in the sun's rays."

"As you know, the sun's rays have been proven to be harmful to the human epidermis."

As he held up a tube, he shouted, "Sunscreen!"

"Even the best sunscreen on the market will not protect humans from being harmed by overexposure to ultraviolet rays and the adverse effects inflicted by near infrared energy."

With raised voice, Pike turned on his side and spoke sharply. "Spock, there's a reason why I didn't ask my _mother _to come on this vacation!"

"Perhaps, you should have reconsidered. Knowing your mother to be in close proximity in one of the cabana rooms may have effectively tempered your judgment on the frequency and duration of sexual activities. It may have saved you from feeling the need to just lie around in an attempt to rest your body in case more demands are placed on you tonight."

With a bemused face, Spock dodged the first lounge pillow thrown his way and caught the next one with one hand. Then, the Vulcan sat up and swung his body to the side of his chair in order to face Pike. Acting as if innocent as he offered back one of the pillows, he asked, "Were you looking for this, Captain?"

Pike playfully snatched the pillow from Spock's hand and told him, "Spock, you know sometimes you can be a real _shit_."

"I recall you telling me once such behavior is typical of male friendship bonding rituals."

"Maybe not in those exact words, but close enough." Although experiencing discomfort as he sat up and turned to face Spock, Pike sensed a turn in the conversation, which would require a different posture.

"Learning to be a better friend to you is important to me."

Pike smiled and Spock readily understood his words had pleased his friend.

The Vulcan continued. "I find women to be a different matter. There are many times when they are quite mysterious to me."

"Welcome to the club. Any man who says he totally understands women is delusional. Did you and Kaatje have some sort of disagreement?"

"You pillow was not the first object I dodged this morning. Earlier she threw a shoe at me with a force that was meant to cause harm."

"Are you sure it was not some sort of sex play?"

"She accompanied the throwing of the shoe with expletives. I am certain her actions were borne from fury, not lust."

"What do you think triggered her reaction?"

"I'm not sure. From her verbal and physical cues, I knew I had satisfied her sexual needs while attending to my own. I removed myself from her bed, gathered my belongings and started toward the door. When she asked where I was going, I informed her it appeared we had completed our activities so now it was only logical I would go to my room and rest."

Pike knew what was coming, but tried to keep a straight face. "Is that when she threw the shoe, Spock?"

"Not quite. She then told me she was not a whore. I replied I was well aware of that fact since no type of currency had been exchanged. However, that could be arranged if required."

"So, I'm sure that's when the shoe came flying."

"Yes, sir. Her aim was inaccurate, but I'm afraid there was some damage to her bedroom door. Of course, I will inform management I accept responsibility for the cost of the repair. However, I do not quite understand Kaatje's behavior."

Pike searched for the right words for the explanation. "Spock . . . women . . . human women often feel a need to . . . _cuddle_ . . . especially after experiencing . . . the main event."

"I'm not sure I know the meaning of the word, _cuddle._"

"It's when you hold someone in a tender manner. For instance, cuddling is a sign of affection between a parent and infant or small child. When engaged with sexual partner, for many women cuddling brings about a sense of completeness to sexual activities."

"But I have no feelings of affection toward Kaatje. We were simply satisfying a biological drive."

"Well, Spock, I can guarantee with that attitude there will be more thrown shoes in your future."

The Captain laughed.

"Sir, I fail to understand the source of your humor."

"It doesn't matter, Spock. And, judging from the expressions I heard from Kaatje, you should not worry about whether she'll want to indulge in the pleasures of your company, again."

"While Kaatje was an enjoyable sexual partner with several commendable talents, I am not concerned as to whether will desire me to return to her bed."

Pike had been Spock's friend long enough to discern something unspoken. He looked to the Vulcan and waited patiently for him to share what was on his mind.

Finally, Spock spoke. "She is still with me."

Hearing his serious tone, Pike knew his friend no longer spoke of Kaatje. "The Cadet you took to the Brooklyn Bridge."

"Yes."

"I thought you said this relationship was over."

"It is . . . if there ever was truly a relationship beyond that of instructor/student."

"Then how is she still an issue?"

"From time to time, she enters my thoughts. I could be reading, playing the ka'athyra, or simply sipping a cup of tea . . . she is with me."

"Obviously, it must be disconcerting for her to disturb you in this way."

"She does not disturb, but comforts."

"In what way could she provide you comfort? That day on the bridge, you rejected her. Then, you told me yourself you later saw her the day we took Jack to the airport. Yet, you walked past her without speaking. In what way could _she_ possibly comfort _you_?"

"I have found this woman to be the personification of grace, compassion, wit and constancy, wrapped in an unpretentious cloak of beauty. In this troubled universe, how could such a woman not calm . . . soothe . . . reassure."

"Spock, you obsess. You cannot have her, so you have transformed this Cadet into some sort of fantasy, sustained only by your selective memories of her. My friend, this woman does not exist."

Spock reflected on the Pike's comment, before he spoke. "You are correct, Captain. I cannot have her, for she will not take me. Not after what I said . . . not after what I did. Yet, the fact remains she _does exist_ for she remains here in my heart."

Pike had no words.

The Vulcan was in love, but as his superior officer the Captain could not condone it.

Spock was in love, but as his colleague Pike could not encourage it.

His friend was in love, but nothing could _or should _come from it.

The Captain wanted to believe time would eventually clear Spock's mind of this unattainable desire. Pike could not give Spock what he needed and, thus, chose the only logical alternative – _make no further comment on it._

Pike rose up from his seat and Spock copied his action. "I'm going back inside to see if Keiko is up, yet. Don't forget, we're taking the women out for Christmas dinner."

"Yes, I recall it as being one of our few pre-planned activities."

Pike started his walk back into the cabana as he said, "I made the reservations for seven, tonight."

Alone, Spock closed his eyes and felt the radiant warmth of the Caribbean sun against his skin as the sounds of the waves filled his ears . . . _and she was with him_.

**Author's Note: **In the next chapter, this episode will continue from both St. Maarten and San Francisco. Your comments are always welcome.


	26. Chapter 26 Without You Part IV

**Author's Note:** Chapter 26 is the fourth part of a storyline depicting a period of schism between Uhura and Spock. Taking place during Uhura's second year as a cadet at Starfleet Academy, this chapter features Uhura, Kirk, and one of Uhura's "precious ones" – Habibah Mungai.In the first half of this chapter, Kirk and Habibah are drunk; however, astute readers will quickly pick up on the fact the author has not attempted to create the slurred and, at times, incoherent speech one would normally speak under these conditions. The author decided to strive for language to move the narrative along, instead of what would have been an embarrassingly amateurish attempt to write more naturalistic speech patterns for this inebriated pair.

**Warning:** Adult subject matter and language included, primarily in the scenes between Kirk and Habibah. The author has posted separately a "M" rated companion vignette entitled, "Milkman." That scene provides an account of what took place between Kirk and Habibah before Uhura arrived at the hotel. However, if offended by sex of a more graphic nature, you should definitely skip it.

Your comments are always welcome.

Uhura's statuesque East African friend, Habibah Mungai tried for the third time to gain entrance into her hotel room by swiping her key card, while James T. Kirk leaned against a nearby wall for support.

"Damn it!" She commented as the door failed to open.

"You sure you're at the right room."

"6-3-1 . . . I'm sure."

"Well, the only thing I'm sure about is you've had too much to drink. _And_, the person whose room you're _mistakenly_ trying to get into is probably calling security right about now."

"It's Christmas Day, Kirk. I doubt if this hotel is at capacity. Most people are not as pathetic as us. They have family or loved ones to be with. I came fall the way from New York to be with my _sistah_ and find out she's on duty for 12 hours. So, then I end up Christmas Eve and the first hour of Christmas Day with _you_. Now, that's fucked up."

"You're the one who's fucked up."

"_I_ only had three little drinks."

"Three drinks of absinthe verte . . . 140 proof!"

"All right . . . all right. But if I'm fucked up, then you're fucked up, too. Unless I'm mistaken, I recall you matching me glass for glass. According to the writer Oscar Wilde, we'd been all right, if we didn't go for that third one."

The cadet asked incredulously, "Am I supposed to understand that reference?"

"You know in the 19th century . . . lots of writers and artists drank absinthe as their alcoholic beverage of choice. Wilde observed . . . 'After the first glass, you see things as you wish they were. After the second, you see things as they are not. Finally, you see things as they really are, and that is the most horrible thing in the world.'" (1)

"How did you fuckin' remember that? I mean . . . you're in no condition to remember something like that. And let's face it, that's pretty fuckin' obscure."

"I told you I'm a Federation Cultural Attaché."

"Right. As though knowledge of _who gives a shit_ Oscar Wilde quotes on alcoholic beverages would be essential for your line of work. I'd like to see the entrance exam for that position."

"Look, Kirk, are you going to help me get into my room or are you going just hold up that wall all night?"

Kirk pushed himself off the wall, and then took her keycard. He swiped the card several times, but it would not open. "Room #?"

"I said 6-3-1."

"Think, again."

"6-3-1?"

"Have you already used this key?"

"Several times."

"This room?"

"Yes. 6-1-3 . . . just like I . . . "

Kirk's points down the hallway. "This way _Einstein._"

As they began to walk toward the room, she commented. "This way _Einstein_? Was that the best you could do?"

"At 2 o'clock in the morning, I think it was . . . "

" . . . unoriginal and so . . . so . . . tired."

"Tell me, again, why Uhura puts up with you?" Kirk stopped abruptly, causing Habibah to walk into him.

"Hey, give me some warning next time."

"It's Room 6-1-3. Are you sure it's the right one?"

"I'm as sure as I was when I said it was 6-3-1. Stop quizzing me and just try it."

Just as Kirk swiped the keycard and opened the door, Habibah drunkenly stumbled into him. With both of them thrown off balance, the two fell inside the living room section of the darkened suite as the door closed automatically behind them.

"Lights up." The execution of Habibah's command caused her to shriek as the bright lights did not complement her present inebriated condition. "Damn it, lights at 25%!"

Lying on the floor beside each other, neither the Iowan or the East African possessed the capacity to immediately take an upright position.

"Well . . ." Kirk commented. "I got you safely back to your hotel room as promised."

"Yeah, you did do that. Thanks, Kirk." There was still no movement as the two stared blankly above at the ceiling above them. Habibah finally suggested, "So . . . I guess you can now head back to the Academy."

"I will . . . as soon as this merry-go-round stops moving."

"Oh, yeah . . . " Habibah closed her eyes in a futile attempt to inhibit the woozy feeling overcoming her. "I see what you mean." Silence. Then Habibah asked. "Hey, Kirk?"

"Hmmmm."

"Since we'll be down here for a while, tell me how you got so hung up over Uhura?"

"You might not want to hear it."

"Why not?"

"It's a tale of genuine emotion and compassion. Are you sure you can stomach it?"

"Go on. I love a good bedtime story."

Kirk hesitated, not knowing how this confessed want-to-be-lover of Uhura would take to his account. However, if only for himself, he cherished those moments he could relive this experience.

"My first meeting with Uhura did not go too well."

"Yeah, I heard you got the shit beat out of you."

"She told you about that. What else did she say about me?"

"Look, Kirk, I'm drunk, but I'm not _that drunk_. You're the one feeling like you've got to tell all, not me. Now, go on with your story."

"Our first semester, we were in a couple of classes together. I thought she was cute . . . sexy in a kittenish kind of way, but she wouldn't give me the time of day."

"_Sexy in a kittenish kind of way?" _She said incredulously. "Why did you believe you were going to get any kind of play with her with that line of thinking?"

"I didn't know her . . . at the time, I really didn't know her." He paused, as if willing the experience to mind. "Then, about midway through the semester, I was sitting in the Student Activities Center just staring out the window, when I heard her voice."

"Hey, Kirk." Dressed in a dance leotard covered by an Academy t-shirt, Uhura stood over him. "Hey, Kirk." She repeated when he did not respond.

"Surprised you even know my name." He said without looking up.

"How could I not know the name of the only cadet who collects demerits as if they were a badges of honor." No response. She smiled, "If you didn't know, I'm joking with you."

"Well, I'm not in a laughing mood."

"I'm sorry." She told him as she sat down beside him. "Sometimes, I try to make a joke when I don't know quite what to say."

"Why the fuck do you have anything to say to me? You haven't said shit to me, since the semester started. Why don't you just go on to wherever the fuck you have to go and just leave me alone." Kirk angrily left his seat and moved to a nearby window.

His lashing took her aback for a moment. However, she swallowed and moved to stand beside him. Silence. Then, she spoke quietly in a calm tone. "I was on my way to dance class and saw you sitting over here. You looked like you were troubled about something."

"So, the way to get your attention is to look _needy_."

She waited patiently for the venom to stop dripping before she speaking, again. "If you want me to go, I'll go. But, if you want to talk, I'm here to listen."

Kirk wanted her to go.

He did not want her to go.

His throat tightened.

His fists balled up on either side of him.

He did not know what to say.

Uhura waited until he found his voice.

"I just spoke with Counselor Valenzuela. She informed me my mother wants me to come home for the funeral of her husband. She offered a week's convalescence leave. And when I declined the counselor's offer, she said I should come out here to think about it. Just what do I have to think about? I hated that son of a bitch."

"He was your stepfather."

"That man was never any kind of a father to me. He drove my brother away and my mother . . . I never understood why she put up with him."

"Do you love your mother?"

"Of course, I love my mother. Why do you think I stayed so long in Iowa if I didn't love her? I couldn't leave her alone with him."

"But you eventually _did _leave her alone with him. Here you are at the Academy."

He could not give voice to his thoughts . . . not now . . . too much pain . . . too much anger. . . too much hurt.

She waited patiently until she knew what to do.

Uhura took up his fists and opened each of them. She then placed her warm hands within his and looked up to take him in.

"Kirk, don't you understand? Funerals are for the living, not for the dead. If you love your mother, you'll want to be there for her. She needs you, Kirk. . . . she needs _you_."

Habibah's initial satiric comments did not sit well with Kirk. "How touching. My favorite part is how Uhura was transformed from a sex kitten to an angel of mercy. Did you cry, too? Shedding tears would have been perfect touch to end it. You should add that detail the next time you tell it."

Kirk sat up abruptly and tried to find his legs.

As she pushed herself up, her sardonic tone could not be hidden. "Hey, where are you going?" Did I hurt your feelings?"

"You can't cheapen it. No matter what you say, you won't be able to cheapen it." He rose up, but stumbled and fell against the door.

Habibah struggled to get to her feet. "You're not going to get very far, not in your condition."

"I'm not going to stay here and have you talk about us like that. You may have grown up together, but she's become something you obviously can't possibly understand."

"Oh, so she soothes you like a hurt puppy and suddenly you think you know her."

"You don't know her the way I do."

"Is that right? Tell me, Kirk , do you really think _you_ will be the first one to get in her pants?" The cadet's unresponsiveness pleased the East African woman. "Hmmmph!" She trumpeted. "I guess you don't know her so well after all. So, let me fill you in."

Kirk did not want to hear another word from Habibah, but he could not find the will to move. For some reason, he needed to hear what she had to say.

Habibah continued. "I don't think Uhura initially had any archaic intentions on saving her virginity until she married, our girl never viewed sex as a recreational pleasure. For some reason, she thinks love needs to be part of the mix. As far as I know, besides a few petting sessions as a teenager that almost went too far, there has been only one man she would have opened her legs for. And that man was not you."

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"I just wanted to let you know where you stand on the food chain, _boy_."

But then came a reaction Habibah did not expect, as a broad smile spread across Kirk's face.

She asked. "So, why are you standing there grinning like a fool?"

Kirk moved close enough to her . . . close enough to feel his cool breath. "I just want to thank you for making the prize that much sweeter."

"It'll be Uhura's choice."

"I'll wait for her to come around as long as it takes."

"It won't be you."

"You don't know that. The only thing you can be sure about is _you_ _are not an option._"

Kirk's triumph was short-lived as his legs started to give way. However, instead of meeting the floor, he found himself in the surprisingly strong arms of Habibah.

She told him, "Let me know when you've found your legs, again."

Habibah was not angry with his words. In fact, there was little she could dispute as to what he said. Very much aware of the affection Uhura actually held for thismzungu (2), she could not let harm come to him. Habibah knew Uhura's feelings for him were more complex and deeper than she would ever reveal to Kirk. Yet, Habibah was not about to help the two of them grow that relationship any further than it had developed. As much as she loved her _sistah_ and wanted to see her happy, Habibah would not be the one who would push her into the arms of this or any other man. She told herself, _Nyota will have to do that on her own with no help from me._

Leaning heavily against Habibah, as Kirk waited for the room to stop spinning he wondered why she had not let him fall after what he had expressed to her. The alcohol within him eased the way for doubts to enter his mind. He thought for some reason Habibah must really not see him as a viable suitor for Uhura's affections. He wondered, _Maybe the two girlfriends had talked about me and Uhura told her we couldn't be anything more than friends. After all, Uhura never let on their relationship was or could ever be anything else than what it was . . . whatever __that__ was._

As Kirk began to feel his legs, again, he also became aware of something else affecting another part of his body. With his chest braced against her full breasts, he could feel his body warming in response to his growing arousal. Concerned about being dropped or knocked to the floor upon discovering his expanding crotch, Kirk used his hands to gently push against Habibah's shoulders to stand on his own, although barely able to do so.

"Are you all right?" she asked half expecting to fall into her arms, again.

"Yeah . . . yeah." Kirk stammered as he tried to retain his balance.

"Lie down for a while. Don't leave until you get some rest, OK?"

He nodded and Habibah left him in the living room to sleep on the couch. Although she could barely navigate the suite herself, she found what she needed to prepare for bed and went into the bathroom.

Later, stumbling out of the bathroom dressed in a fuschia V-neck tee with sleepwear shorts, Habibah had no doubt she would fall asleep as soon as she fell into . . . _What's this? _On the other side of the king-sized bed, a shock of blond hair peaked out from under the covers. "Kirk! You are supposed to be on the couch!" Although shouting, her voice failed to rouse him. She crawled across the bed and pulled the covers away from his body to find him fast asleep, clothed only in his briefs.

"Damn it!" She exclaimed, as she realized she lacked the strength or the will to move him. She calmed herself as she reasoned, _The bed is big enough for the both of us._

After placing the covers back over him and making herself comfortable on her side of the bed, Habibah gave the command, "Lights out."

As she prepared for the alcohol induced coma to finally overtake her body, Habibah suddenly recalled Uhura's having said something about Kirk's legendary sexcapades at the Academy. _Knowing I'm not interested in what's between his legs, he wouldn't try anything with me, would he?_ As the minutes passed, she seriously considered making her way to the living room couch, but before her feet could find the floor she lost consciousness.

Kirk awakened not fully aware where he was. The stickiness about his groin and one of his hands did not surprise him, for it was not unusual for him to please himself at will. However, his surroundings appeared foreign to him. The satiny feel of the sheets and luxurious comfort of the bed readily informed him he was not at the Academy. Still too dark to identify his environment, he called for the lights to glow at a low dim. Turning to see what was about him, the figure to his side proved reminder enough of where he was and how he had gotten there. With Habibah's tee still hiked up exposing her ample breasts, it took all of Kirk's self-control not to take a taste as he gently pull down her shirt and then cover the rest of her body with the sheets.

Knowing it would be best if he left before she woke up, he went to the bathroom to relieve and, then wash himself. When he came back out into the bedroom, he was not quite sure where he could find his clothes, but he did not want to risk turning up the light any brighter out of concern he would awaken her. He reasoned his things could not be very far from the bed. He first started to bend down to search the floor; however, a throbbing headache from a hangover convinced him to try another alternative. Spotting clothes draped over a nearby chair, he picked up a blouse and realized the articles all belonged to Habibah.

Suddenly, he heard the opening of the hotel room door. Moving into the living room with blouse still in hand, his eyes adjusted to the light pouring into the room. Quickly identifying the intruder, he called her name, but the door shut swiftly after the person retreated.

"Shit!" Kirk exclaimed. "Lights up 25%." Spotting his pants on the living room floor, he pulled them on quickly and grabbed what he thought was his shirt as he rushed out the room. The Iowan barely made it inside the elevator as the doors closed. With overnight bag in hand, Uhura looked straight ahead as she reluctantly shared the elevator car with _this man_.

Kirk began with, "It's not what it seems." She did not respond. "When you came in, I was looking for my clothes so I could . . . " He stopped in mid-sentence realizing he had mistakenly taken Habibah's blouse, instead of his own shirt.

The elevator doors opened allowing Uhura to move hurriedly out into the lobby with the shoeless and shirtless Kirk on her heels. "Uhura . . . ." Kirk pleaded. "Could you just hold up for a moment so we can talk?"

With the hotel exit in her sights, Uhura quickened her pace, but was stopped when a plainclothes security officer cut off their path. The tall, broad shouldered man looked Kirk over, but despite his questionable appearance the cadet adamantly refused wilt under the officer's inspection. The officer turned to Uhura and asked, "May I be of assistance, Miss?"

"I'm fine." She answered without hesitation. "I was just on my way out."

"Yeah." Kirk added. "My wife and I were going out for a walk."

Uhura shuddered at Kirk's reference. The officer's eyes darted to the bare-chested Kirk, then back to Uhura. "Miss, if you would rather speak privately . . . "

Uhura swallowed, then spoke. "My _husband_ was just walking out with me, so I could catch a SkyCab back to my dorm . . . I mean . . . to the SkyPort."

Kirk placed his arm around Uhura and brought her body against his. While in that posture, it took all she could muster not to squirm, while in that posture. "Yes, the little woman is supposed to be off on another business trip, but I'm trying to convince her to delay her departure so we can spend more time together." Turning to Uhura, he added. "After all, _honey_, it is Christmas Day."

Noting the security officer's continued skeptical gaze, Uhura realized she needed to play her role more convincingly. Placing her hand lightly on Kirk's chest, she attempted not to choke as she said, "_Darling_, I didn't know it was so important to you. Perhaps, we could talk about this a little more_._" Looking back to the officer, she asked. "Officer, is there someplace where my husband and I could have some privacy?"

"Why don't you just go back to your room?"

Kirk answered. "My mother is asleep up there and we rather not disturb her."

The officer intuitively sensed a charade. When he first spotted them, this woman unmistakably bore a distressed look while being pursued by this man. Also, for a woman supposedly going on a business trip, her overnight bag did not appear to be the quality or type a person of that class would carry. However, without further evidence, there would be no reason to further detain either one of them.

The officer offered to take the couple to a more secluded part of the lobby, but asked Kirk to put on the shirt he had in his hand in order to "preserve hotel decorum in public spaces."

Kirk put on Habibah's ill-fitting silk blouse, seemingly unfazed by the fact he was wearing an woman's article of clothing. Uhura poked her elbow into his side to remove the broad smirk from his face as the officer brought them to an area away from the main flow of hotel guests and staff.

Sitting down on a Chaise settee, Uhura tried to put space between herself and Kirk, but he continued to hold her to him. "Kirk, let go." She said as a yawn escaped from her mouth.

"I think we better stay this way for a while. That security officer will probably be watching us on a monitor."

Uhura looked at him warily, but reluctantly acquieseced. "OK."

"Thanks for playing along."

"I didn't want to be the one who got you into trouble. You know how to do that well enough all by yourself."

"Nothing happened between me and Habibah."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"What do _you_ mean – _What is that supposed to mean? _Come on, Uhura, I think you know very well what I mean."

"Kirk, you're making my head spin. Just say what you mean."

"_Nothing happened_!"

"Are you talking about sex?"

"YES!"

"Is that why you thought I left the room, because I was somehow offended by what might be going on between you and Habibah?"

"Not so much offended as . . . maybe . . . _jealous_."

"_Jealous_!" Uhura laughed.

"Hey, what so funny?"

"Just why would _I_ be jealous of _you and Habibah_?"

"Because you thought _something happened._"

"So, what if it did? Look, it was Habibah's room and she's a big girl. It's her business what she wants to do in the privacy of her own quarters, even if her partner for the night is somewhat . . . _questionable_."

"She's a lesbian."

"You don't think I know that?"

"I was just reminding you my plumbing is of little interest to her."

"What is that suppose to mean?"

"Not that question, again!"

"Habibah may be a lesbian, but she enjoys sex as much as anybody I know – including you, Kirk. And when that girl has an itch, at times she isn't too particular about who is willing to scratch it." Uhura failed at suppressing another yawn.

"I'm telling you _nothing happened!"_

"Kirk, you know there is a difference between _nothing happened_ and _I can't quite remember all the details_. With you two, I have a feeling it was the latter."

The comment stymied Kirk for a moment. He remembered most of the evening at the bar and escorting Habibah to her hotel room in the early hours of the morning. However, to be truthful, he could not remember much else that happened until waking up that morning and getting an eyeful of Habibah's plentiful assets.

"So, it really didn't bother you to find Habibah and I . . ._ together_, then why did you leave her room in such a hurry without speaking to me?"

"I got off from a 12 hour shift . . . returned to my dorm room . . . found Habibah's note with hotel key inviting me to spend time with her at a four-star hotel . . . no brainer. I throw some things in a bag . . . take a SkyCab . . . open the door . . . find you in her room in your birthday suit."

"Briefs. I had on briefs."

"_My_ story, Kirk. Let me tell _my side of the _story. OK?"

"I'm not stopping you."

"Except for the light coming in from the hallway, it was difficult to see. Even though I really couldn't tell if you had anything on, I'd seen enough. All I knew was that I was exhausted and wasn't about to make it a threesome. I just wanted to get back to my dorm and find a bed . . . any bed. I wasn't in the mood to hear any explanations and I didn't care . . . just wanted to get to . . . "

Not fully cognizant of her actions, she felt her body slump against Kirk's. Gradually, she became aware of Habibah's scent intertwined with Kirk's strong masculine odor. She did not know why, but these smells and the feel of her body against his were . . . _comforting. _As she relaxed against him, the sound of his heartbeat lulled her to sleep. _Nothing else mattered . . . nothing . . . _

On this Christmas morning, time drew closer to half past seven and the activity within the lobby started to pick up. Kirk realized she would not sleep long undisturbed. He would soon need to get her to her feet to take her back to the hotel room. Yet, taking in her scent, gave him pause. He believed, _We can stay . . .. just a little while longer,_

Kirk could have held her for hours . . . _her body against his . . . like that . . .yeah, he liked it like that._

_Nothing else mattered for she is with me._

**Author's Note: **Oh, yes. The world isn't _quite right._ It even becomes a bit more complicated in the next chapter when we revisit Spock, again. I hope you stay along for the ride.

(1) Oscar Wilde quote from "Absinthe Liquor," retrieved on 9/9/2010 from .com/famous-absinthe-quotations/

(2) Mzunga = Caucasian


	27. Chapter 27 Without You Part V

**Author's Note:** Chapter 27 is the fifth and final episode of a storyline depicting a period of schism between Uhura and Spock. Taking place during Uhura's second year as a cadet at Starfleet Academy, this chapter features Spock, Pike, female companions – Kaatje Pierson and Keiko Nguchi, and a Dominican woman named Mercedes Delgado.

Your comments are always welcome.

Spock's fingers effortlessly glided across his tricorder, as he and Christopher Pike sat at the St. Maarteen SkyPort awaiting their flight to San Francisco.

Pike commented. "Last night, using that tricorder was your first strike."

"Another baseball metaphor, Captain?" Spock asked as he continued to work.

"That's right."

"As I recall from attending Jack's games, after three strikes the player is terminated."

"The player is _out_, Spock."

"I do not quite see how this metaphor is appropriate to last evening's experience, sir."

"Well, then let me break it down for you. It was the last night of our holiday and we took Keiko and Kaatje out for an evening of dining and dancing."

"The women appeared pleased with the choice."

"Believe me, neither one was pleased with the amount of time you spent with that tricorder."

"At the time, one of my assistants was transferring critical data to me for my analysis. She would not have been able to proceed with her work without my input."

"Strike one, Spock."

"I put the instrument away as the entrée was served."

"We had a round of drinks and an appetizer. At least 30 minutes had passed with your focus directed toward a machine, instead of the beautiful woman sitting next to you."

"Ms. Pierson did not seem to mind."

"She was _seething_. Definitely – strike one."

Spock stopped his work and turned toward Pike. "Your tone suggests there were more strikes to follow."

"Can you guess which one came next?"

"It was difficult to ascertain. Ms. Pierson appeared upset most of the evening."

"No kidding, Spock. What was your first clue?"

"Are you attempting sarcasm, Captain?"

"Spock, the woman was dropping major hints she would like to _visit _you when her work took her to San Francisco. And what did you say to her?"

"I asked if she was inquiring if I would be her f**k buddy."

"Strike two!"

"Sir, I was just stating the obvious. Our interactions here on the island have strictly been of a carnal nature. F**k buddy is a term I have heard other humans use to describe such arrangements. I thought it to be appropriate in this situation."

"It is still considered to be a derogatory term and not one you would openly use in mixed company."

"Ms. Pierson did appear to express a gasp when she heard it."

"No, Spock, it was not a gasp. She shrieked! Everyone in the restaurant turned our way."

"Yes. During our sexual activities, I have noted she has a particularly high register."

"Well, the fun did not stop with Kaatje's shriek. Keiko kicked _me_."

"Most illogical."

"Apparently, her foot could not reach you."

"Ms. Noguchi is a woman of short stature. I would estimate the reach of her leg from a sitting position to be – "

"Spock! You know it really doesn't matter. The bruise on my leg will tell you that woman has quite a kick."

"Both women appeared to calm down significantly once they partook of several more alcoholic beverages."

"Those drinks _almost_ saved the night. But then came – _strike three."_

In a St. Maarteen restaurant off the Great Bay, Spock, Kaatje Pierson, Pike and Keiko Noguchi shared a booth. Music filled the air as couples moved across the dance floor before them. The two women frequented their drinks spiked with guavaberry liqueur, while Pike left his virtually untouched and Spock took sips from his water glass.

Keiko tasted her drink, again, and exclaimed, "Mmmmm . . . that's so good."

"I could drink this all night." Kaatje added.

Pike commented, "I'm glad you women are enjoying it."

"But Chris," Keiko feigned deep concern, "you've hardly touched your drink."

"It's a little too sweet for my tastes." Pike answered.

Turning her attention to the Vulcan, Keiko observed, "And you, Mr. Spock, haven't had anything at all to drink."

"Ms. Nuguchi." Spock responded. "It is incorrect to say I have not had anything to drink, when I have consumed at least 6.9 deciliters of water."

Pike shot a glance at Spock, but it was Kaatje who commented. "Keiko, if you have not caught on by now, Spock is quite literal-minded. You definitely have to watch what you say around this Vulcan."

Feeling the buzz from the alcohol, Keiko giggled. "Oh, Mr. Spock, lighten up a little. You're acting like an old Martian or something."

"Well, I suppose I must be the _something_. While Mars has a United Earth outpost, it has not indigenous beings. Therefore, Martians do not exist."

Looking to Pike, Keiko told him. "Chris, you said Spock could be a lot of fun, but he doesn't even have a sense of humor. I bet they don't even have any comedy clubs on Vulcan."

"Ms. Noguchi." Spock retorted. "I am at a loss as to whether you meant your last statement as an insult or praise."

Pike's laughter caught Keiko and Kaatje off-guard as neither one understood the source of the outburst. As the women moved on to another subject, the Captain caught his friend's eyes and smiled warmly. For him, the Vulcan was truly one of the funniest men he had ever met.

Pike noticed Spock's attention appeared to shift to a group of four twenty-something Caribbean women of African descent being seated at a table near theirs. While they all appeared somewhat attractive, he seemed to focus on last one to slide into the booth. She was a petite brown-skinned woman, who wore her hair in tiny, intricate braids that fell to her shoulders. He noted how her sleeveless, Burgundy pencil dress hugged her curves and stopped just high enough above her knee to allow appreciation of her shapely legs.

"Spock?" Kaatje called him, unaware what had garnered his attention. "Spock?" The Vulcan turned his attention back to his table companions. "Chris says you can identify this music. He says you're a student of music and you even play an instrument."

"I play a ka'athyra."

"A what?"

Spock needed no prodding from Pike to simply state. "It's a Vulcan version of a lyre."

"That's like a harp, isn't it?" She said proudly.

"Yes." Spock answered drily.

"So, Spock." Keiko readied her question taking care not to fall victim to his tongue, again. "What kind of music is this?"

"If you are inquiring of its genre, it would be classified as merengue."

"I thought merengue was a dance."

"Merengue is a type of music and dance." He lectured. "If one were to survey the history of Terran dance and music, one would know these art forms developed as a complement to each other. In other words, music could not exist without dance and dance could not be subsist without music."

"That's deep, Spock. Really . . . so, so, deep." Kaatje commented, allowing the alcohol convince her of the profoundness of her statement.

Before Spock could offer a retort, Pike interjected. "Spock is also a fine dancer."

"Really!" Kaatje exclaimed.

"With all due respect, it would be more appropriate the Captain termed my dancing abilities as competent. While Vulcan did not develop a dance tradition analogous to that of your planet, my innate rhythmic abilities and physical dexterity allows me to learn most dances easily after minimal study."

"Did you study the merengue, Spock? Do you think you can show me how to dance the merengue?" The Belgian woman said excitedly.

"Knowing of our destination for this evening, I did take the opportunity to peruse several vids on that dance. The steps are relatively simple and may lend itself to instruction from a novice of this dance form."

Kaatje turned to Pike and Keiko. "Why don't you two join us?"

Keiko spoke first. "Not me. I probably shouldn't have had the last drink. I'm afraid I'd just embarrass myself trying to keep my balance."

As Keiko answered, Pike noticed Spock once again had turned his attention toward the nearby table with the four Caribbean women.

"Spock." Pike called to him in a slightly authoritative voice. "It will just be you and Kaatje on the dance floor. Keiko and I will sit this one out."

Amongst other dancing couples, Kaatje and Spock stood across from each other. The Vulcan began his instructions with Kaatje who listened carefully to his every word.

"The merengue has a rhythm similar to that of a march. Just move your feet in time with the beat – 1 - 2 1- 2 – 1 – 2 – 1 – 2 . . . very good. Now keep those feet moving and swing your hips." Kaatje does so, but her self-conscious attempt threw her off-rhythm.

"I guess the dance isn't simple enough for someone like me."

"Just remember to bend and straighten at the knees and your hips should swing naturally."

Kaatje followed his instructions and smiled when she appeared to have mastered the steps. "I think I've got it."

"It is passable. Now we will add the rib cage."

"What does that have to do with the dance?"

"You are to move your rib cage from side to side, while keeping your upper body level."

Her attempt caught the attention of others on the dance floor, but more out of pity than admiration. "Spock, I'm not sure if I should move my rib cage to the right as I bend my right knee or if I should move my rib cage to the right as I bend my left knee."

Noting her pathetic effort, Spock could only advise, "It would be best if you did not give it so much thought. If the addition of the rib cage movement is too difficult for you, then . . ."

"I think I'm going to be sick." Hurrying toward the bathroom, Kaatje left Spock on the floor. Keiko followed her friend to assist, leaving Pike alone at the table. The Captain thought Spock would join him, but his friend surprised him by walking to the table of women.

With wary eyes, the women took in the tall Vulcan standing before them with his hands clasped behind his back.

"I am Spock and I want you to know I have not come to your table to solicit sex."

The roar of laughter from the women caught the ear of Pike and most everyone else in the restaurant. _Damn_, Pike thought_, I wish I knew what he was saying to them._

The Vulcan continued. "Since my dance partner is indisposed, I came to request a replacement."

"Why do you think one of us would want to dance with you?" One of the women asked her question in standard Federation, but with a distinct Spanish accent.

"My request was not meant for all of you. There is only one that I have in mind. This one." Spock's eyes met the petite woman's face that appeared not at all intimidated by his boldness.

Using a similar accent as her companion, the woman of his attention pointedly addressed him. "The question is still the same. Why do you think one of us would want to dance with you?"

"Because I have not considered the option of being denied the privilege of your company."

Pike heard the women give a collective . . . _Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm_ Then he watched as the petite woman rose from the table and moved with Spock unto the dance floor. Unlike with Kaatje, the Captain noted how Spock took his right hand and placed it around the woman's waist, while he took her right hand with his left and held it at eye level. The couple began to dance.

The woman scanned his moves from head to toe. "Not bad for a foreigner." She reported.

"You mean an alien."

"Mr. Spock, I know we've just met, but you should know I speak my own mind. I meant what I said. You don't look like your're native to the Caribbean. How long have you studied the merengue?"

"I downloaded three 12-minute vids to my tricorder and viewed each one. Therefore, I have studied the merengue for 36 minutes."

She commented incredulously. "I don't believe it."

"I am incapable of lying."

The woman began to sway her hips in a way that told anyone watching she was indeed no novice to this dance.

Spock commented. "I see I am dancing with an expert."

"The merengue is the national dance of the Dominican Republic. We learn the dance, while still in our mother's womb."

"That certainly would give you an advantage." He enjoyed the sound of her laughter in response to her comment.

Under her guidance, he passably replicated her more experienced movements. Then he initiated turns, which caught the eye of others in and around the dance floor. The spectators now included Kaatje and Keiko, who rejoined Pike at the table.

Although no longer feeling nauseous, Kaatje still did not appear well. Seeing the Vulcan with another woman did nothing to life her spirits. "What is Spock doing with that woman?"

Pike told her, "I believe he's attempting to demonstrate a few of the new dance moves he's learned."

Keiko opined, "It looks like more is going on than just dance moves."

The song ended, but was replaced by one of a slower tempo. However, as the lights lowered to complement this more romantic mood, neither Spock nor the woman made an effort to leave the dance floor.

"Are you familiar with the Bachata, Mr. Spock?"

"Please demonstrate."

Taking a closed position, he imitated her slow, sensual movements while adjusting to the adjusting to this more carnal-inspired rhythm.

"You are a quick study, Mr. Spock."

"But obviously one not attuned with Terran social graces. We've been dancing, but I have not asked your name or know anything else about you."

"Well, that knowledge gap is easily remedied. My name is Mercedes Delgado. My colleagues and I are Dominicans who are in St. Maarteen for the holiday."

"Colleagues. What is your line of work?"

"We're CPA's for one of the largest finance firms in the Western Hemisphere."

"Accountants? I cannot speak for your colleagues, but that profession does not appear to suit one who appears so creatively inclined."

"Believe me, Mr. Spock, accountants must often time be most creative in their work. That is the only way I'll achieve my goals."

"Which are?"

"After I complete my doctorate in economics next year, I believe I'll be in a good position to work my way to becoming a corporate VP by the age of 30. Then, I plan on an appointment as CFO by the age of 35 and CEO by 40. One day, I even envision myself as Chair of the United Earth Economic Coalition." Mercedes stepped forward to close in the space between the two. Spock accepted the spatial adjustment with no discernable reaction on his face.

Mercedes continued. "Thank you for not making light of my goals. Some people think they exceed my reach."

"One of your Terran poets – T.S. Eliot – once said, '_Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.'"_

Pleased with his response, she decided to learn more about him. "And, are you also here on holiday?"

"Yes, I am here with my Captain."

"Captain? Are you a military man?"

"I am an officer in Starfleet."

"And the women you are with? Which one are you more likely to enrage by dancing with me?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Well being a woman, I can tell you that it does matter."

"Conequently, as a woman, you are offended by my reaction."

"Offended? No. However, as a woman, I understand why the two of them are now heading for the door." Spock turned to see Kaatje and Keiko leaving the restaurant. When the Vulcan looked toward Pike, he remained at the table shaking his head.

The Dominican woman asked, "Do you want to go after them?"

With no hesitation, he answered. "No." He studied her. "Should I now release you so you can return to your friends?"

"Shortly, since we'll need to be on our way. We're to meet at the pier at 10 PM for a moonlight cruise."

"You choose to remain with me for a while longer."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I'm intrigued. I haven't met many men like you."

"A Vulcan?"

Her now sultry voice spoke in low tones. "A man willing to take charge . . . a man who knows what he wants and does not hesitate to go after it." She leaned forward so the tips of her breasts could be felt against his chest through the silky top of her dress. Her fragrant perfume mixed with her own scent filled his nostrils.

Mercedes tilted her head upward exposing her long brown neck and she suggestively intoned, "_I like a man like that."_

Spock surprised Mercedes as he abruptly withdrew his hand from her waist and dropped her right hand. He bent his head forward to position his lips less than a few inches from her ear. "Ms. Delgado, as a man I am not immune to your stimulating words and behavior. However, I'd rather take on the role of the hunter, rather than the hunted."

"Strike three!" Pike announced. Both he and Spock now moved toward their SkyPort gate to board their transport back to San Francisco.

"Captain, I do not believe I quite understand the cause of the third strike."

"You know, Spock, I'm going to take away you man card if you can't figure that one out."

"Sir, I do not believe I was ever issued a _man card_. Nor do I understand why such identification would be necessary."

"Spock!" Just as the Vulcan had gotten a rise out of him, it quickly dissipated as a slight, but still noticeable mischievous grin appeared across Spock's face. "I know you're not a believer in such spirits, but you've got a bit of the devil in you."

"I only regret my actions left you on such bad terms with Ms. Nuguchi."

"Look, Spock, that's not such a loss. Keiko's kick to the shin was not a turn on in my book, especially when I was not the true object of her ire. And Kaatje couldn't hold her liquor. That's something I find repugnant whether it's violated by a man or a woman."

"So, my third strike had to do with my response to Ms. Delgado's _offer_."

"Even though you rebuffed her on the dance floor, as that attractive woman left the restaurant she her business card with the waiter to give you with the written message – _In case you change your mind._ I don't know of any unattached Starfleet officer, myself included, who would have turned down a fine and willing piece like that."

Spock reflected. Ms. Delgado had Nyota's body type, hairstyle, skin color and grace of movement. She was smart and sexy. . . daring and driven . . . all without the complications of a faculty-student relationship . . . all without the cadet's unjustifiable faith in a god which to Spock simply does not exit . . . . all without the dark confession of her family's racist beliefs.

_How ironic. _Spock thought. _Keiko accused me of not having a sense of humor, but I realize the joke is on me. For my feelings toward Nyota are, indeed, illogical._

_My hunger for her grows and cannot be satisfied._

_Yet, I love her._

_My desire for her thrives and cannot be met._

_Yet, I love her._

_My need for her intensifies and cannot be fulfilled._

_Yet, I love her._

There was no understanding between he and Nyota . . . no recognizable relationship of any kind. Spock did not quite understand why, but he reasoned, _Having sex with Ms. Delgado . . . someone so similar to Nyota, but not her . . . that would be a cheat . . . a perversion . . . wouldn't it?_

"Spock." Pike interrupted the Vulcan's thoughts. "So, what were you thinking when you didn't find your way into that woman's bed last night?"

Spock looked to his Captain and simply said, "She isn't _the one_."

**Author's Note: **Spock's parents visit in the next chapter.

Your comments are always welcome.


	28. Chapter 28 Guess Who's Coming to Dinner

**Author's Note:** Chapter 28 takes place the first week of January during Uhura's second year as a cadet at Starfleet Academy. This chapter begins a storyline depicting how Uhura became Spock's Course Assistant. This episode features Uhura and Spock, as well as, the Vulcan's parents – Amanda and Sarek.

Your comments are always welcome.

Completing the tour of the Academy, Uhura spoke the final lines of her presentation before a group of 23 cadet family members and friends standing on the steps of the Student Activities Center. After conducting these tours on a part-time basis since her first year, she felt she had become so proficient at it that the tours had become perfunctory. She asked the group, "Are there any further questions?"

Uhura nodded as a thin and petite middle-aged woman raised her hand. The cadet nodded her way. The visitor spoke in a friendly, but firm manner. "If I haven't learned anything else today, you have certainly impressed upon me that life at the Academy is quite challenging in a number of ways. Between the demands of such a rigorous academic schedule and military training, how do you find time for yourself?"

It was not the first time Uhura had heard the question, so she accessed her ready-made answer and addressed the entire group. "Life at the Academy may be arduous for cadets, but not as difficult as it must be for family members and friends. As most of you probably already know, Academy life affords little time for cadets to spend with their loved ones. Then, after graduation and assignment to a Starship, it may be five years or more before there is any possibility for a reunion. That is why we call all of you the real heroes, since it is your sacrifice that gives us the privilege to pursue our dreams."

Uhura smiled as applause met her response. As she had seen her actress friend do so often on the stage, the cadet paused long enough for the applause to lessen, but not completely end. Amidst the background of fading applause, she added, "Well, that concludes our tour. I hope you have the time to visit a little longer before you begin your journey home." The group applauded, again, and several thanked her as others dispersed.

Still basking in the praise she received from the members of her tour group, the East African woman tossed her braids behind her and started to leave when she noticed someone from the group still remained. It was the middle-aged woman who had asked the last question. Uhura smiled and walked toward her, sure the woman also wanted to express her appreciation for the tour. However, her smile faded with the woman's frank statement.

"You didn't answer my question."

The facility with language Uhura had earlier displayed seemed to leave her. She thought, _What did she mean by that comment? My answer seemed to resonate with everyone else._

"Do you care to answer it or not?" The woman continued to confront her.

"I thought I already did."

"I asked, how do _you _find time for yourself? Although your response obviously pleased the masses, it did not directly speak to my query."

To Uhura, the woman reminded her of one of her former undergraduate professors. Her voice carried an exacting scholarly tone, while her casual Terran attire seemed at least a decade behind the times. Although several inches shorter than Uhura, the visitor gave the impression of someone much taller in stature.

"Ma'am," Uhura addressed her, "When I committed myself to a career in Starfleet, I understood there might be aspects of my life that might be put on hold, while I pursued my chosen profession. There are, of course, times when I can get together with friends and have a drink or two, but Academy life does not allow for much more. Believe me, I doubt few would remain in the service if one did not believe the experience worth the sacrifices to one's personal life."

Uhura thought she had now _passed the test_, when the woman did not immediately offer a response. However, the cadet soon realized she was mistaken.

"Cadet Uhura, the tour is over. You are no longer on the clock."

"Ma'am?"

"You obviously have been trained well as a . . . what is your title?"

"Academy Ambassador, ma'am."

"Yes, of course. The title is quite appropriate. Like a diplomat you are trained to advocate for a particular perspective of military and reassure outsiders of the rightness of that point of view. Well done, your audience has departed."

"All, but one." Uhura tersely said.

"All, but one." The woman repeated.

Uhura wondered, _Who is this woman with the disarming smile?_ The cadet observed while the older woman's tone was unwavering, her large brown eyes appeared kind and lively.

"You have not left me, yet." The visitor continued. "So, I'd rather believe you really would like to go off script and answer my question as though _Big Brother_ were not listening."

Uhura hesitated, then finally decided the truth might be the best option after all. "I love to sing. During my first year, I sang with the Academy Chorale. I thought after I became acclimated to campus life, I would find the time to resume private lessons, again. However, private lessons are more than my cadet stipend can afford and more often than not I find myself using much of my so-called _free time_ to study for my comprehensive exams."

"Are you in a doctoral program?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'm studying xenolinguistics."

The woman nodded her head knowingly. "So, after you pass your comps, then you'll be tied up with years of research and the writing of your dissertation. You'll have to find a way to stay on top of this, while dealing with the rigors and distractions of your mandatory 5-year Starfleet term of service. Then, if you somehow manage to actually complete the dissertation and win the approval of your academic committee, you'll have to find a way to stay current in your field. So, you'll feel the need to take on more research projects, while enduring another 5-year service term. Or, perhaps, you'll accept a position at some university or institute, where the demands on your time will be even more onerous. Year pass quickly . . . then, you'll die."

On the defense, Uhura spoke quickly without the restraint of being a model representative of the Academy. "You act as if I'm some sort of automaton who exists, but does not take the time to enjoy life. Well, with all due respect, you don't know me. Perhaps, all is not perfect, but I am blessed with family, friends, faith and a passion for my work that enriches my life in ways I could not begin to explain to you."

Uhura readied herself for the woman's next remark; however, the visitor's sudden smile disarmed her. "Cadet Uhura, you're right. I don't know you, but I do like the fervor and strength of character you just displayed. For a woman in a male-dominated vocation, you've shown you have what it takes to thrive amidst all that entitled testosterone. I think you're going to be all right."

The woman's words rang sincere and reassuring. Strangely, this stranger's praise appeared to have more of an affect on the cadet than she would have expected. "Thank you, ma'am."

The women stood within an awkward moment. Neither one knew why the other remained or what should next be said. Finally, the visitor broke the silence.

"Well, I suppose I've taken enough of your time already." The woman held out her hand. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Cadet Uhura."

After the tour, Uhura had planned to get a sandwich from the cafeteria and then go to the language lab to practice her enunciation of one of the Troyian dialects. However, for a reason unclear to her, she was not yet ready to leave this woman's company.

"Ma'am, I don't know if you have any other plans at the moment. But, it's one o'clock and I'm ready for lunch. If you don't mind eating at the Student Activities Center, I'd like you to be my guest. The food is actually quite good or, perhaps, I'm so used to eating there I can no longer tell the difference."

The women shared a laugh. "All right." The visitor said. "I'll accept your invitation under one condition. No more calling me, ma'am. I didn't sign up for the military and the term just makes me feel _old_."

"Agreed. Then, what should I call you?"

"My name is Amanda."

Wearing a visor and sitting behind a protective shield, Ambassador Sarek watched another trial of a gamma rays experiment. After its completion, one of Spock's research assistants asked him, "Sir, would you like me to run the next trial at a higher frequency?"

Removing his visor, Sarek carefully reviewed the trials results. "No, I believe that will be all for today."

From his monitor in his office, Spock's ears picked up a collective sigh of relief from several research assistants with his father. Spock spoke through an intercom. "Cadet Banderas, please escort the Ambassador to my office?"

"Yes, sir."

When first told of the impending visit of Spock's father, the research teams did not expect such a grueling experience. After all, how vigorous could someone be so close to his 100th birthday? However, after three 12+ hour days in a row, they learned just how different the Vulcan and human physiologies could be. Taking advantage of only a few breaks throughout the day to meet basic needs, Sarek questioned each research team's methodology, experimental design and reviewed their progress reports.

Ensign Rutledge, Spock's operational coordinator, asked his supervisor, "Sir, I was under the impression the Ambassador's primary vocation was that of a diplomat."

"That is correct."

"Then, how does he know so much about everything, sir?"

Spock doubted if he could ever get used to the imprecision of human speech. "Ensign Rutledge, the Ambassador does not know _everything_. However, he is a lifetime member of the Vulcan Science Academy and would not dare shame such a position by taking the office lightly. The Ambassador is and always will be an avid champion of scientific inquiry."

"Yes, sir. And, may I ask you about another thing, sir?"

"What other _thing_ do you believe should come to my attention, cadet?

"Well, sir, tomorrow is the last day we have before classes begin, again. After the last three days, I am sure the teams would appreciate some type of a break, sir?"

Spock realized such a request would be unthinkable at Vulcan Science Academy. However, he had learned long ago humans could not continue to work at peak efficiency under such conditions. His mother would have advised that allowing a day off would be the _humane thing to do_. But, Spock was more motivated by productivity concerns, rather than compassion.

"Ensign Rutledge, you may revise the schedule as you see fit, making sure critical functions are sufficiently covered by a rotating skeleton crew."

The Ensign nodded as he suppressed a relieved smile. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." The Ensign left Spock's office just as Cadet Banderas arrived with Sarek who carried a tricorder in his hand. Upon being excused, the cadet left the two men alone.

Spock rose from his seat. "Your assessment, father."

"If the Vulcan language possessed such a word as, revenge, I would say you have exacted such in regards to the Vulcan Science Academy. Over the last 10 years, you have almost brought Terrans into the 23rd century."

These comments from Sarek represented the closest words resembling a compliment Spock had ever heard from his father. Yet, Vulcan standards of decorum would not allow him to call attention to it with an expression of gratitude. As expected, Spock gave no response.

Sarek continued. "Of course, I did note errors in design, performance, and analysis with each of the research teams. Most of these errors could be termed minor and not out of line of what one would expect with groups comprised primarily of Terrans. However, most were not major in scope or significance."

"Will you be able to send me your notes before you depart for your conference in New York in the morning?"

Sarek's hand moved across the keys of his tricorder with quickness and agility. "Done." No sooner had the Vulcan sent his report did his tricorder begin to sound. "Message from your mother." He scanned the communication. "Today, your mother deviated from her itinerary and did not visit colleagues as originally planned . . . went on a tour of Starfleet Academy conducted by a cadet." Sarek stopped reading to address his son. "A tour of the Academy? It is my understanding such tours were for those associated with students."

"The tour may be taken by Academy candidates and alumni, as well as, acquaintances of any current cadet, faculty or staff member. I recall Mother had expressed wanting to elect this activity when I was a student."

"Ah, yes. That was the period when you portrayed yourself as an orphan, by asking us not to visit you."

"You exaggerate, father. I asked you not to visit, so not to give the appearance of favoritism. We discussed this matter before I left Vulcan. Please continue with Mother's message."

Sarek turned his attention back to his tricorder. "Your mother had lunch with the cadet . . . then went _window shopping_ with that same cadet . . . " Sarek looked up to Spock. "I am not sure what that means? Surely your mother did not go shopping for windows. I doubt if they would meet the Vulcan standards."

"Father, I believe _window shopping_ is a colloquialism. It is an activity most often performed by female Terrans who visit stores to review the current stock of merchandise without the intention of purchase. However, in practice, few are able to resist the urge to buy."

"Most illogical."

"Indeed."

Sarek returned to the message. "Apparently, your mother has invited this person to dinner." Looking back to Spock, he commented. "Most peculiar. She knows I will not be able to attend since I must review our strategy before leaving for the Federation Conference, tomorrow. Why would she not simply want to spend dinner alone with you?"

Spock knew his father's question to be rhetorical for this did not constitute atypical behavior for his mother. As a cultural xenologist, Amanda held an intellectual curiosity concerning all races of beings. Yet, her approach went beyond scientific study to genuinely engage her subjects within the context of that group's beliefs, knowledge, customs, knowledge and art. Since there were a number of cultures alien to Earth who now could be counted among the Academy's cadets, Spock wondered which one his mother had befriended.

"Did mother divulge the cadet's name?"

"I am not sure of the pronunciation. However, I believe it is pronounced . . . Ny – o – ta . . . Nyota?"

Uhura imagined if her mother had lived, they would have spent days like this. The cadet and Amanda quickly disposed of their lunch, but remained at their table at the Student Activities Center for several hours. Their conversation flowed easily from subjects ranging from the serious to the trite. And, there was laughter . . . so much so that at one point the manager of the cafeteria asked them to keep their voices down. The admonishment did little more than to propel the women into a round of giggles.

Amanda took Uhura's hand and whispered between chuckes, "I better take you out of here before I get you in trouble."

Outside the Center, Amanda surprised Uhura by wanting to extend their day together. "I feel like doing something _girlie._"

The cadet offered, "I know just the thing and it won't cost us a single credit."

At a department store, the two women went from counter to counter in the cosmetics section experimenting with various lipsticks, rouges, eye makeup, powders, fragrances and skin care products. After making up their faces to their satisfaction, they continued their excursion outside walking past windows of boutiques.

While on their outing, one particular item caught Uhura's eye – a strapless, teal cocktail dress with an empire waist. Amanda noted the object of the younger woman's focus and said, "Let's go into this shop to try on a few things." Although Uhura knew she could not possibly purchase anything at this high-end store, she reasoned it would be all right to pretend she could for a while.

As the two tried on various articles, Amanda became amused by Uhura avoidance of the teal dress. The older woman thought she would give encouragement to the cadet by trying on a few cocktail dresses and proudly paraded about the large dressing room. Although Amanda's exhibition garnered Uhura's enthusiastic cheers, the East African still did not attempt to try on the object of her desire. Finally, Amanda retrieved the article, herself, and told her, "I want to see what you look like in this one."

Uhura hesitated, and then asked, "How did you know?"

"I got a hint when we were outside staring through the window and I saw all that drool drip from your mouth as you looked at that dress." The women laughed. "Now, go on and put it on, so I can see you in it."

Uhura's emergence from the dressing room was met with Amanda's applause. In her bare feet, the cadet twirled about and gave an exaggerated strut like a high fashion model. "This is perfect! The teal color brings out the rich tones of your skin." Amanda exclaimed, still wearing one of the peach dresses she had chosen. "Now, we should pick out accessories to go with our dresses."

"All right. We should be sure to take a picture of the two of us, so we can remember what we looked like."

"We'll ask my son to do so, when we arrive at the restaurant for dinner." Surprised, Uhura looked to Amanda who quickly realized her error. "I'm sorry. We've had so much fun, today, I presumed you would want to have dinner with me, tonight." She waited for the cadet's reaction, but none seemed forthcoming. "Was I wrong, Nyota? I leave with my husband for New York in the morning and in two weeks we'll be headed to the Andorian system, before finally heading home. I don't know the next time I'll return to Earth."

Uhura hesitated, and then told her. "Amanda, of course, I would love to join you for dinner. But . . . " She cast her eyes downward. "I couldn't even afford a hair clip in this boutique."

"Nyota, I didn't ask you to pay for anything. It is my gift to you."

"Oh, no, Amanda, it's too much."

"When you asked me to lunch earlier today, did you give me a limit on how much I was supposed to spend? Did you remind me that you're only a cadet making subsistence wages, so don't order anything too expensive?'"

"Of course, not. That is not the way of my people. There should be no limits to generosity."

Amanda took up Uhura's hands and looked into her eyes. "Then let me be one of _your_ people, Nyota."

_Who was this woman with such a warm heart? _Uhura thought. _Whose mother is she? _ Then, she spoke these words, "Wewe ni watu wangu. Amanda, you are my people."

**Author's Note: **

In the next chapter, Spock has dinner with his mother and Uhura. It should be posted within the next few days.

Your comments are always welcome.


	29. Chapter 29 The Vulcan Guide to Dining

**Author's Note:** Chapter 29 is the continuation of a storyline that began with Chapter 28. Occurring during Uhura's second year as a Starflet cadet, this chapter involves Uhura, Spock, and the Vulcan' mother – Amanda Grayson.

Your comments are always welcome.

Spock sat at a table set for three in a small, but galactic-class vegetarian restaurant in the historic Haight District of San Francisco. Sitting stiffly with his hands resting on the table, he had positioned himself to see the women as soon as they entered the dining room.

Spock checked his chronometer. With reservations having been set for 7:00 PM, the women were already late by 7 minutes, 45 seconds. While the Vulcan knew this was still in the range of timeliness for most humans attending a social function, he still found himself to be uncharacteristically unsettled. He wondered, _What sensation am I experiencing? Is this . . . _

Spock's thoughts were interrupted by the sight of Amanda and Uhura as they entered the dining room led by the maître d'. Unencumbered by the restrictive and conservative style of Vulcan women's apparel, Amanda seemed ten years younger in her knee length cocktail dress. Although sporting a high neckline, a keyhole opening added enough tease to be on the respectable side of sexy. Her chestnut colored hair fell about her shoulders and moved in complement to her graceful steps.

Uhura . . . _Nyota _. . . was a different matter. Only two weeks had passed since he last saw her . . . and, yet_ . . . seeing her _. . . _I_ _missed you, Nyota . . . I missed you._ With an impassive face, his eyes took in this young woman in the teal, strapless cocktail dress with her finely braided hair caught up in a comb delicately placed on the back of her head. He reflected, _I like what I see. _

When Spock rose to greet them, Uhura realized her destination and stopped in her tracks. She thought, _It couldn't be!_

Amanda jokingly whispered to the cadet, "Don't worry, he won't bite."

Suddenly realizing, Uhura turned to the older woman and spoke as low as possible. "_You're _Amanda Grayson, the famed cultural xenologist, wife of one of the most esteemed men of the 23rd century – Ambassador Sarek, and mother of the only Vulcan to graduate from the Academy and serve as a Federation officer. _Why didn't you tell me?"_

"I told you my name is Amanda. Did anything else matter?" Amanda's smile helped to calm her. Uhura closed her eyes and took a breath to release the tension that had paralyzed her body. She felt Amanda's arm wrap around her shoulders.

The maître d' asked, "Madam, is everything all right?"

"Yes." Amanda told him as they continued to walk toward the table. "Everything is fine."

Uhura looked up to see Spock coolly observing the women's actions. If Sarek had been present, he would have found such a public display of touching highly distasteful. However, when not on their home planet or in the company of his people, Amanda unrepentantly placed her hands on others without thought to usual Vulcan behavior.

After the maître d' seated the women, Spock took his chair. Uhura only briefly allowed her eyes to set on him as if to make sure Spock was really at her table.

Amanda spoke first. "Good-evening, Spock."

"Mother. It appears you've had a busy day."

Amanda held up her arms in an exaggerated pose. "Do you like it?"

"The question is will father like it?"

Although Amanda did not respond verbally to her son, the mischievous glint in her eyes provided the answer. She knew in the morning, she would dutifully don the clothing appropriate for the wife of the head of the Vulcan delegation. However, for now she had other plans. When her husband returned to their hotel room that evening after her diplomatic briefing, Amanda looked forward to _testing_ the effect of her appearance on Sarek's libido.

"Oh, my . . . " Amanda suddenly said hurriedly. "Where are my manners? I forgot to introduce Nyota."

"There is no need, Mother. Ms. Uhura and I are acquainted with each other."

Uhura added. "Last semester, Mr. Spock served as the instructor for my ethics class last semester."

Amanda quipped to Spock. "Is that right? Then, I'm sure Nyota was one of your _star_ students." The comment caused Uhura to slightly turn towards her new friend with a "_I know you didn't" _look. Indeed, Amanda almost made Uhura regret telling her the meaning of her first name. Luckily, Spock did not seem to catch on to the wordplay.

"Ms. Uhura's performance was exemplary when compared to her other classmates, but the lot overall seemed to lack the intellectual drive to do more than to . . . What is the phrase humans use? Oh, yes, I remember. They lack the intellectual drive to do more than to _get by_."

Amanda retorted, "Perhaps, it is a reflection on the ability of the instructor to inspire."

Spock chose not to react directly to his mother's implied slight.

"You mean entertain." Spock commented. "Humans do not believe they can learn without being entertained. If they had to adopt the Vulcan system of learning pods, few would possess the discipline to master it."

Uhura felt as if bound by a straight-jacket. She wanted to respond to Spock's comments, but she thought it would be rude to do so in the presence of his mother. She cast her eyes down hoping the evening would soon be over.

Amanda noted the change in Uhura demeanor. Gone was the lively, headstrong young woman with whom she had enjoyed spending the day. Amanda wondered what could possibly be beneath the surface.

"Nyota, what is your take on Spock's assessment of human attitudes toward learning?"

"Professor Grayson, Mr. Spock is my superior officer and I am also a guest at your table. It would not be appropriate for me to openly express my opinion on the matter."

Amanda spoke her words gently, but firmly. "I didn't invite Cadet Uhura to dinner or one of my former students. I invited the lovely young woman who I thought had become my friend. And, my friends do not call me Professor Grayson. As for Spock . . . " She looked towards her son. "I am sure for a few hours he can forego the expectation of Academy formalities to allow you to speak freely. Am I correct, Spock?"

Although phrased as a question, Spock knew by the slight edge in her voice Amanda was not giving him a choice. "As you wish, mother."

Despite her best intentions, Amanda did appear to take on the professorial role. "All right. Now, Spock, repeat your comment, so Nyota may respond."

In his mind, Spock questioned the purpose of the exercise; however, he did comply."I stated that humans do not believe they can learn without being entertained. If they had to adopt the Vulcan system of learning pods, few would possess the discipline to master it."

When Uhura hesitated to answer, Spock surmised, she did not have a pertinent response.

"Ms. Uhura, it appears my mother unintentionally placed you in a difficult situation. She assumed you had a ready retort, but apparently her supposition was incorrect."

"No, sir. You are the one who is mistaken." Uhura stated unwaveringly. "I hesitated in order to find a more tactful way to say your arrogant comment lacked any semblance of profundity."

"Please explain." Spock said brusquely.

"In general, humans and Vulcans have different learning styles which call for differing pedagogical approaches. Who doesn't understand that? And while there are some who just do enough to _get by_ - you disparage myself as well as most other students by painting your brush much too broadly. What you characterize as the human student's desire to be entertained is actually a need to be engaged.

"Ms. Uhura, are you aware that among humans, alone, on average there are 654.3 applicants for every cadet position at the Academy?"

"Yes, sir. I am aware of that statistic."

"Is it not your understanding that those who enter the Academy do so voluntarily after a comprehensive vetting and interview process?"

"Yes, sir. That is correct."

"Is it not true one of the major tenets of the Academy is that cadets must have a commitment to learning and are willing participants in the education process."

"Yes, sir."

"Then is that not sufficient reason for engagement on the part of these students, no matter what approach to learning is employed."

"Mr. Spock, is it not a concern of faculty to choose the most effective methods which best create a setting most conducive to the learning of students?"

"Yes, that is a concern."

"Is it not true humans constitute nearly 89% of those serving as cadets at the Academy?"

"88.3% to be exact."

"Are you not a member of the Academy faculty, Mr. Spock?"

"Ms. Uhura, that fact is clearly evident."

"Then, as a faculty member concerned about the utilization of the most effective pedagogical approach to learning, should you not employ one which best serves the majority of the students under one's guidance. Since the overwhelming majority of the cadets are human, then it would only be logical for a _concerned_ faculty member to understand these students would learn best where the teacher has fostered a nurturing relationship within a safe environment built on a foundation of mutual respect. Students need to be engaged, Mr. Spock. They need to experience that connection."

Spock suddenly found himself speechless, unable to refute Uhura's flawless logic. It took Amanda to finally end the silence that followed Uhura's last statement. "Wonderful!" She exclaimed. "Is there anything more stimulating than intellectual discourse?"

Although his mother's question was rhetorical, an answer did quickly come to mind. Spock was very much aware of his growing hunger for this woman . . . _Nyota_.And, intellectual discourse, alone, would hardly satisfy it.

While pleased with her ability to match words with Spock, Uhura did not gloat. Instead, she marveled at how comfortable she felt being with the Vulcan and his mother – a woman she had just met that day. An easy smile came across her face as she rested her back against the chair. She thought, _I can get used to this._

Several waiters came to the table bearing serving dishes of vegetarian cuisine, while they filled glasses with pomegranate juice and water. The headwaiter then turned to Spock and asked, "Is there anything else we can do for you, sir?"

"All appears to be as I ordered."

As the wait staff took leave of the table, Spock began to serve his mother's plate first, placing what appeared to be sample portions of each of the dishes. Amanda noted Uhura's bemused expression.

"Nyota, you look a bit bewildered."

"I realize I am your guest; however, I've never been out to dinner where someone else took the liberty to order for me." Disregarding her statement, Spock began to serve Uhura. "I've also never had anyone serve my plate as if that person can assume to know what I want." Although her last statement had an edge, it did not deter Spock from his task.

"I'm sorry, Nyota." Amanda began. "I thought since you're in the field of xenolinquistics, you would appreciate experiencing Vulcan dining traditions. I had used my communicator while we were at the shop to let advise Spock on the expectations for the evening. I should have shared those plans with you."

Now realizing Spock had not acted alone, Uhura quickly apologized to Amanda. She added. "Of course, I would like to learn about Vulcan culture as much as I would about the traditions of other non-Terran civilizations. I'm embarrassed I did not recognize it as such."

"How would you know? Does the Academy offer courses in Vulcan culture?"

"Just one course. It's taught by my advisor, Dr. Greely."

"Jacqueline Greeley? She's earned a doctorate?"

"Yes. Do you know her?"

Amanda hesitated in order to choose her words carefully. "For a period, I served on her dissertation committee. I didn't know she had completed her work, she I was unexpectedly replaced by someone else." She then added. "Dr. Greeley's course must be quite interesting." Spock could hear a slight sarcastic tone to his mother's comment, but he decided not to pursue it. Not yet.

Spock completed serving his plate and then looked toward Amanda. "It is done."

Uhura did not see anyone pick up utensils. She waited, deciding to take Amanda's lead.

Amanda commented. "The tradition of having the male order and serve the meal is quite ancient. It harkens back to the days when men would grow, harvest and prepare the food for the household. Even in our modern times, male Vulcans often excel in the culinary arts since their palates have become quite discerning."

Uhura reflected. "It just seems to me there would be a lot of wasted food. How would the male always know specifically what other family members or guests would want at a particular time?"

"As you can see, Spock placed only a small amount of each item on our plates. After tasting, you are free to obtain more of that food which pleases you. As a consequence, this leads to less, not more waste."

"Mother." Spock called to her. "It is done."

Amanda continued to speak to Uhura. "My son not so subtly reminded me I have not given permission to eat. You see, Nyota, although men often are responsible for the food, women manage the household. Therefore, males defer to women to give permission to begin the meal, even when eating in public places." Amanda took both Nyota and Spock into her sight as she exclaimed, "_Kal-tor palikau."_

As soon as she saw her dinner companions pick up their forks and knives, Uhura bowed her head to say a silent grace. Amanda, who had seen Uhura do the same at lunch, paused to allow the cadet the moment of silence. Spock also paused, but more out of curiosity than respect. While it was not the first time he had seen someone practice this ritual, it was still rare to see such a display in public.

When Uhura completed her prayer, she looked up and noticed neither Spock or Amanda had started to eat. "I'm sorry. I should have asked you not to wait for me."

Amanda smiled and nodded as a sign for them to begin to eat.

Uhura tasted one of the samples and commented, "Well, Mr. Spock, I can't say I disagree with your choices, thus far. The food . . ."

"Ms. Uhura." Spock interrupted her. "During a traditional Vulcan meal, it is impolite to speak while eating."

"Mr. Spock, I'm certainly not speaking with food in my mouth. I am careful to swallow before I talked."

"Nyota." Amanda intervened. "He means, Vulcans do not speak during the time the main course is served until everyone has been satisfied. They believe one should focus on the food in order to better experience it . . . not just the taste, but also more fully experience the sight, smell and texture."

"I see." Uhura replied, again, feeling embarrassed and ignorant.

"Of course, when I married my husband, I vowed to live my life as a Vulcan. For over three decades, I remained steadfast to that pledge, deviating only on a few special occasions. However, _kling akhlami buhfik._" Amanda smiled as she indicated her current Terran attire. "But Nyota, you have made no such a vow and following such traditions may prove too awkward for you. In mixed company, we are always willing to make accommodations. So, if you desire to continue to converse during our meal, it will be no problem for either of us to do so. What is your wish, Nyota?"

Uhura did not hesitate with her answer. "I would like to continue to experience these Vulcan traditions. In my field, the cultural knowledge of a particular race is as important as learning the language of that people. I had a professor who once said . . . "

"Ms. Uhura," Spock interrupted her, again. "May we now enjoy our dinner?"

Uhura stammered. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to run off at the mouth like . . . " Realizing her continued breach of Vulcan decorum, she gave a slight discomfited laugh. Amanda touched the younger woman's hand lightly to reassure her, before they resumed eating.

In an attempt to avoid further errors, Uhura focused on her meal. After a few bites, she realized how the food did seem to take on a more substantive dimension. None of the dishes at this urban vegetarian restaurant were foreign to her. Yet, by consciously using her senses to deepen the experience, she almost seemed to be tasting this type of cuisine as if for the first time.

Although Amanda also enjoyed her meal, she became distracted as she caught Spock catching glimpses of Uhura. As time passed and the East African woman appeared not to look up from her plate, Spock became bolder by lengthening his gaze upon Uhura, while unaware of his mother's observant eye. It did not take her long to recognize what the carefully tended façade attempted to hide.

As Uhura ate, she gradually sensed herself being watched. The younger woman slowly raised her eyes to view the Vulcan, who appeared to be attentive to his food. She returned her eyes to her plate, but soon felt the presence once again. She quickly looked up, but Spock seemed not to pay her any attention. Uhura decided to now set a trap by fixing her eyes upon her plate until she felt eyes upon her, again. She patiently waited to lull the spectator into a false sense of security before she would catch him in the act.

_Just a little while longer . . . a few seconds more. _Uhura said to herself. _Now! _However, although she abruptly raised her eyes, Spock seemed to be in a world to himself.

Refusing to doubt her instincts, Uhura now glared at the Vulcan who now ate the remainder of his meal at a snail's pace. He steadfastly kept his focus to himself until eating his fill, signaling his satisfaction by laying his utensils carefully across his plate. He then raised up his eyes to take in his dinner companions, while bearing an unmistakably smug look on his face.

Amanda bit down on her lip to suppress her laughter at the _show_. Since Uhura appeared as though she would eat no more, Spock's mother broke the silence as traditionally expected of her.

"Son, I believe we are ready for our tea and dessert to be served."

"Mother, unfortunately, we will need to make due with only dessert for our final course. When I ordered our dinner, the headwaiter assured me they had an extensive collection of fine teas. However, when he brought over samples for me to examine . . . " Spock paused as if to prepare the listeners for shocking news. "All of the so-called teas were contained in _bags_. Upon closer examination, the contents were not actually teas at all, but were of the herbal variety composed of various dried flowers, seeds and roots."

Amanda shook her head as in disbelief, while Uhura did not appear to understand the reason for concern. The cadet chose not to show her ignorance by asking about it.

Spock signaled for the headwaiter, who then ordered his wait staff to clear Spock's table. The headwaiter asked the Vulcan, "May I offer you and your guests any dessert, sir?"

"When I spoke with you earlier, I believe you mentioned your establishment carried pla-savas."

"Yes, sir. In fact, we received a shipment of pla-savas from Vulcan earlier, today. May I bring you a serving, sir?"

"Yes, please do."

"Pla-savas, Spock?" Amanda asked.

Picking up on Amanda's questioning tone, the cadet did not know why Spock's mother seemed to express concern about his choice. However, the Vulcan's next comment ignored his mother's uneasiness.

"The importation of the fruit has only been made possible as of late by a lowering of tariffs on the product."

Amanda rose up suddenly and eyed her son warily. "I believe I'll go freshen up."

Part of Uhura wanted to follow her, but something within the East African woman compelled her to stay put. Still Uhura asked, "Would you like me to accompanying you?"

Amanda reflected for a moment as if considering her response. "No, I do believe this is my cue to exit.

Both Spock and Uhura waited until they were sure Amanda was out of earshot before either one of them spoke. The Vulcan began the volley.

"Judging from your expression when you entered the dining room, you appeared surprised when you realized you were headed to this table. Am I to believe you spent most of the day with my mother, but did not realize her relationship to me?"

"Am I still allowed to speak freely, sir?"

"Yes . . . yes . . . of course."

"It is irrelevant what you believe to be true, sir. The fact is your mother introduced herself by her first name only."

"You share a related field. Surely, you must have come across her image when studying her work."

"Unlike the Terran clothes she wore today, the images I've seen of her usually depict a woman clothed in Vulcan attire including some sort of headdress."

"She was not wearing a mask."

"Mr. Spock, the usual participant on the Academy tours is usually the parent of a plebe. I certainly did not expect the mother of a former cadet who served _years_ ago."

"_Years ago_, Ms. Uhura?"

The cadet sat back against her chair knowing she has hit her mark. "It has been a long while since you were a cadet. Isn't that right, Mr. Spock?"

"You make me sound . . . _ancient_."

"Relatively speaking, I suppose you are." She said coolly.

"There could not be more than six Terran years difference in our ages."

"Six years?" She feigned surprise. "That much?" Uhura fixed her eyes on the Vulcan. As if she had taken lessons from her former instructor, the cadet did not change her impassive expression. She sighed with unmistakable satisfaction, as she felt quite pleased with the way she had handled him.

Silence found a place between them, but Spock was not ready to throw in the towel. He not only returned her gaze, but also allowed his eyes to roam freely about her upper torso.

Finally becoming uncomfortable, she finally broke the silence. "Mr. Spock, what are you doing?"

"I was just noticing the bodice of your dress."

Suddenly becoming self-conscious, she looked down to see if she had spilled something on it. Seeing no stain, Uhura asked, "What about it?"

"The cut of the top of the bodice."

Uhura tried to subdue any hint of anxiousness when she spoke. "It's a strapless dress, but I don't understand what you mean to imply by your comment." While the bodice fit snuggly against her body, the cadet knew her dress was quite conservative as it did not show any cleavage or any part of her breast.

"Is it not January, Ms. Uhura?"

"Of course, it is January, Mr. Spock."

"Yet, you chose to wear an outfit which bares your shoulders."

Uhura paused as she reflected on his statement. Then she spoke. "Sir, are you questioning my judgment?"

Spock stated in an unaffected tone, "Ms. Uhura, I am only making an observation."

"I did wear a jacket to the restaurant and, the facility is temperature controlled."

The two were unaware of her approach as Amanda returned to the table. Having overheard part of Spock's last statement, she asked, "Are you two talking about temperature?"

"Yes, mother." Spock said impassively, but with his eyes still on Uhura. "Apparently, it is rising."

Amanda took notice of Uhura's not too subtle glare at her son, while Spock returned her look with an impenetrable poker face. "I seem to have missed part of the performance." Spock's mother quipped. "That's what happens when one arrives late to the second act."

The arrival of pla-savas broke the duo's attention on each other. Served on one platter, the blackish blue fruit resembled an oversized pear that had been cut in half. After the dessert plates and dessert forks were distributed, Spock excused the wait staff and began to cut the fruit into sections.

"Mother?"

"I believe I'll pass." Amanda replied, but then turned to Uhura. "Nyota, have you ever tasted pla-savas?"

"No. I'm sorry to say, I've never even heard of it."

"Then, by all means you should have some for instructional purposes." Spock told her as he placed several slices on Uhura's plate, before serving himself.

Amanda added. "I'm sure you'll be happy to know there is no ban on speaking during dessert."

Uhura gave a relieved sigh and picked up her fork, but hesitated. "It has an usual color."

Spock lectured as if in a classroom. "While blue is not a color that naturally appears in Terran foods, this hue is not uncommon in fruits on Vulcan. As this specimen ripens and intensifies its sugars, the value of its color lowers until it is nearly black in appearance. Consequently, the darker the fruit, the sweeter its juice."

Uhura laughed lightly.

"Did I say something humorous, Ms. Uhura?"

"No . . . no, Mr. Spock. It just reminded me of a saying shared with me by an African American friend of mine. She'd tell me, _The blacker the berry, the sweeter the fruit*_."

Neither Spock nor Amanda immediately responded.

"It's metaphorical."

"Many saying are so, but it has no significance to the hearer who does not understand the context for it meaning." The Vulcan asked, "Do you wish to enlighten us?"

Uhura reflected on it for a moment, but decided it was not the time to initiate a discussion on Terran racial history. "I think it would be wiser if I just sampled this fruit."

The fruit cut easily with her fork. The cadet placed a piece in her mouth and bit into it. Although it appeared to have the consistency of soggy bread, the juice seemed to explode in her mouth. Surprisingly, some of the blue juice escaped and trickled down her chin.

Amanda laughed good-naturedly as Uhura quickly dabbed her chin with her napkin. "It's so sweet and juicy." She remarked as she cut another piece. "Hopefully, this time I can eat it without drooling like a baby."

"Place it back a little further on your tongue." Amanda advised.

Uhura did so and smiled as she successfully contained the juice in her mouth. Then, she noticed Spock's fork still on the table. She asked, "Is there a reason why you're not eating, Mr. Spock?"

"Traditionally, females at the table sample the fruit, first, to determine its suitability."

"Mr. Spock, what do I know? It seems fine to me. Please eat."

Spock obeyed her directive, cutting a piece with his fork and placing it in his mouth. He openly allowed his eyes to take in Uhura as he held the fruit in his mouth. Then, instead of chewing, he seemed to swallow the section whole. His inexpressive face gave no clue to his enjoyment.

"What did you think, Mr. Spock?"

He paused for a moment as if forming a considerable opinion. Yet, he simply commented, "I found it to be quite satisfactory."

Uhura sampled another piece as Spock did the same. Amanda watched the pair with amusement.

The cadet commented to the older woman, "To be honest, I'm surprised at how much I am enjoying this, especially after you seemed a bit wary when you learned of Mr. Spock's selection."

"You should not have let it trouble you. The cultural xenologist in me cannot help but think of the historical context of things."

"This fruit had significance in Vulcan cultural history?" Uhura asked as she forked another section.

Spock eyed his mother, but she was undeterred. "In ancient Vulcan history, well before Surak and the Time of Awakening, the people considered pla-savas a sacred fruit known for containing certain properties."

"What sort of properties?"

"Mother." Spock intervened. "I see no reason to expound on a myth which has never been subject to scientific study to prove or disprove its basis."

"Did you not say Nyota should experience this fruit for didactic reasons? Should she not understand the cultural context to more fully appreciate it?

"She has already expressed her pleasure. The effect of her knowledge of this obscure footnote in Vulcan cultural history would be negligible."

Uhura knew she could not make any demands. After all, earlier she had evaded explaining the meaning of the African American expression. Still, she was extremely curious. "Please." She said, "I would like to know about the fruit's mythical properties?" She popped another piece in her mouth and held it this time in imitation of the Vulcan.

Amanda smiled broadly in the direction of her son as if daring her son to answer.

"Very well." The Vulcan replied, but then turned his attention to Uhura as she slowly allowed the fruit to begin its slide down her throat. "My ancient ancestors considered it to be an aphrodisiac."

As she heard the words, Uhura felt her throat constrict around the fruit. Amanda asked with concern, "Nyota, are you all right?"

Uhura shook her head in the affirmative and grunted. Amanda handed her a glass of water as Spock watched impassively.

The Vulcan commented, "As long as she can make a sound, Ms. Uhura is not in any danger."

Amanda shot a glare at Spock as Uhura took sips of water, until she finally cleared her throat. Amanda then asked gently, "Are you all right, Nyota?"

The East African woman nodded and managed to say, "I'm fine, Amanda."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded again. "Now I can see why Vulcans rather not speak during their meals." Uhura's attempt to make light of the matter only evoked a weak effort to smile by Amanda who still seemed concerned about the cadet's well-being.

And . . . although she did turn toward him . . . Uhura knew . . . _Spock's eyes had never left her_.

**Author's Notes: **

Translations:

Kal-tor palikau= Let it commence.

kling akhlami buhfik = nobody's perfect

*The phrase, "The blacker the berry, the sweeter the fruit," is an African America response to the denigration of people with darker skin color. The comment served to affirm the desireability of those who did not fit Caucasian standards of attractiveness.

Your comments are always welcome.


	30. Chapter 30 And Yet

**Author's Note:** The author apologizes for taking such a lengthy break between postings; however, sometimes, _making a living_ has to come first. Chapter 30 is the continuation of a storyline that began with Chapter 28. Occurring during Uhura's second year as a Starflet cadet, this chapter involves Uhura and Spock, as well as Amanda Grayson and her husband, Sarek.

Your comments are always welcome.

With jackets covering their dresses, Amanda and Uhura stood in the entryway of the restaurant holding packages containing the casual clothing they wore earlier that day. While waiting for Spock to hail a SkyCab, Uhura allowed her eyes to stray through the glass door to take in the tall Vulcan. The cadet realized she had taken too much time on her subject when she heard . . .

"Is there something of interest outside, Nyota?" Amanda asked playfully.

Uhura took a breath so not to betray her embarrassment at being caught looking at the woman's son. "I was just checking to see if Mr. Spock had gotten a SkyCab, yet?"

Amanda beamed, "He's quite handsome, isn't he? Just like his father."

"It really wouldn't be appropriate for me to comment on the matter."

"I think you already have." Amanda continued. "Not just now, but throughout the evening."

"Mr. Spock is a faculty member and a superior officer."

"Last time I checked, he's still a member of the male species."

Uhura could feel herself growing flustered as she clumsily stated, "Mr. Spock and I . . . there's nothing going on . . . really . . . there isn't. I can assure you that your son has never ventured beyond the acceptable boundaries of Academy decorum."

"You mean by human standards. Spock may have displayed some cues, but you just did not recognize them."

"I really don't think this is any of your business!" Uhura's harsh sounding voice surprised even her. Without hesitation, she began to apologize. "Amanda, I'm sorry. The last thing I wanted to do, today, is to hurt you."

Amanda smiled. "Don't you dare apologize. You're right. It isn't any of my business. Spock certainly wouldn't be pleased if he knew I was having this conversation with you. The subject is now closed."

Relieved, Uhura returned her smile. "Thank you, Ahhhhh –" The cadet could not complete Amanda's name as she suddenly felt the older woman's arm come around her. Uhura dropped her package as Amanda unexpectedly pulled her close.

"Nyota, are you a poker player?"

"It's a popular pastime among cadets and even officers, so I'm told. I've sat in on a few hands to at least know the basics of the game, but I can't say I'm very good at it."

"When I was a graduate student, I became quite an aficionado of the game."

"I wouldn't guess you're a gambler."

"Oh, I never played it for sport. One of my dissertation committee members suggested I study the game as a way to prepare me for my year-long fellowship on Vulcan."

"I don't understand. I've never heard of Vulcans taking part in those types of diversions."

"They don't. However, the game still provides some insight to their method of nonverbal communication. During a game of serious poker players, each person attempts to subjugate his or her emotions so not to provide any clues as to the value of the cards held at any given time."

"Hmmmmm . . . I think I see the connection. Their facial appearance would be similar to what seems to be an impassive expression on Vulcans."

"A person not familiar with Vulcan nonverbal communication patterns would be at a distinct disadvantage. However, the game of poker taught me how to look for and identify a _tell_."

"What's a _tell_?"

"It's a behavior or some type of sign which gives away information a person had endeavored to keep hidden. It could be something as simple as a tap of a finger, a slight purse of the lips, or even the raising of one's eyebrow. By observing these mannerisms and making note when they occur, one can begin to recognize emotions or thoughts that otherwise may seem indiscernible. I can tell you my experience on Vulcan would not have been nearly as fruitful if I had not taken my committee member's advice."

"It sounds like the advice was invaluable. How did you ever thank him?"

"I married him."

Uhura did not know why, but she broke free of Amanda's hold and turned away from her. Just as Amanda started to move toward Uhura, Spock entered the restaurant. Immediately sensing an unease, the Vulcan looked toward his mother with a slight cock to his head.

"It's all right, Spock. Nyota and I were just having a talk about . . . _poker_."

"Yes, Mr. Spock." Uhura spoke after a brief pause. "Your mother was discussing an application of the game – " Uhura stopped mid-sentence as she suddenly noticed how Spock held his head a little askance.

The Vulcan raised his head back to its usual pose. "Ms. Uhura, would you like to finish your thought?"

"No, sir . . . I – I – I mean . . . " she stammered.

"Spock, were you finally able to get us a cab?"

"Yes, I believe it is still waiting for us outside, if you are now prepared to leave?"

Uhura nodded and took a step forward not noticing the package she had dropped earlier. Tripping over it, the cadet fell face first onto the floor. Amanda and then the maître d' rushed to help the startled East African woman to her feet, while Spock stood idly by with his hands clasped behind his back.

Amanda tried to suppress a gasp as she saw how a trickle of blood began to flow from a cut on the cadet's lip. The maître d' ordered one of the wait staff to provide a chair. "Shall I call a doctor, Miss?" he asked as he helped Uhura to sit with Amanda hovering over her.

"I'm fine. Really, I am." She tasted the blood and licked her bottom lip. "We fare much worse than this during close combat training."

"Let me, at least, get you a towel and ice for your lip."

As the maître d' hurried away, Uhura lifted herself up from the chair to Amanda's protests. "Nyota, please . . . you shouldn't try to move."

Although not quite in command of her full faculties, Uhura scooped up her package. "We should go. That cab won't wait for us all night."

Turning to her son, Amanda told him. "Spock, you could at least assist Nyota in carrying her package?"

"Mother, all Starfleet cadets must demonstrate the ability to lift and carry a minimum of 100 lbs. If the parcel Ms. Uhura holds contains a uniform, shoes and other related apparel, the weight would be approximate 5% of that requirement. Therefore, I am confident the cadet is capable of meeting this task with no complications."

Although Amanda glared at him, Spock gave his mother no notice.

For at this moment, he held Uhura in his eyes . . .

For at this moment, she held Spock in her eyes . . .

_. . . so beautiful . . . _

_. . . so damn good-looking_

_. . . despite her bruised, swollen lip _

_. . . despite his pointed ears_

_. . . stubborn_

_. . . arrogant_

_. . . prone to unfounded beliefs _

_. . . indifferent to matters of faith _

_. . . the progeny of a racist father _

_. . . the son of an alien _

_And yet . . . _

_And yet . . ._

"Then let's be on our way." Amanda unknowingly broke the couple's hold on each other. However, they had enough of each other . . . at least, for now.

The SkyCab ride to the Academy proved uneventful. Few words were exchanged as Spock sat in the front with the driver, while the women sat in the backseat. Amanda played the part of the doting mother as she stole quick glances at Uhura's swollen lip.

When the cab parked at the Academy entrance, only Amanda left the vehicle to deliver words of parting. She told her, "I don't recall when I've had the occasion to laugh so much. After all, laughter is not considered an admirable quality on Vulcan."

Uhura asked, "Would it be all right if I contacted you from time to time? About professional matters, of course."

"Professional matters? I would be pleased to serve you in that capacity. However, I thought we meant more to each other than that." Her words both indicted and embarrassed Uhura.

"With you being the mother of Mr. Spock, I did not want to appear as if I were trying to curry favor with my superior officer." Uhura answered. "However, I am indeed blessed by the time spent with you. These memories will remain with me always."

Feeling the genuine sincerity of the cadet's words, Amanda embraced her lovingly in a way she could never do with her son. As they separated, Uhura suddenly felt a sense of sadness.

"Unfortunately, one of the disadvantages of being the wife of an ambassador involved in critical negotiations is the difficulty in sending and receiving communications from those outside of diplomatic circles. Even with Spock, there are times when communications are blacked out for weeks or months at a time for particularly sensitive circumstances. Yet, when possible, I would like to stay in contact with you. And not just for professional matters. Is that clear?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Spock witnessed his mother lightly kissing Uhura's cheek before returning to the cab. He wondered, _How could his mother so easily give her affection? How could Nyota so easily accept it?_ Although wanting to understand this phenomenon, Spock felt he could not ask his mother about it for it was too personal. Moreover, it dealt with public behavior most Vulcans would find deplorable. Intellectually, he understood this issue was not and should not be of his concern.

And yet . . .

In his parents' hotel suite, Spock waited with Amanda for Sarek to arrive from his diplomatic briefing.

"Spock, I would like your opinion on a couple of images the restaurant maître d' took of Uhura and me while you were getting us a cab." With holodisk in hand, Amanda projected an image before them. "Which one do you prefer? This one?" The smiling women portrayed a traditional pose standing side by side in the entryway of the restaurant. "Or, this one?" The women stand back to back with one leg stretched before the other in a seemly provocative stance. However, their heads are tossed back and faces contorted as if in the throes of laughter. "We tried our best to do it straight, but we felt so silly that we couldn't help, but laugh."

Spock looked at both images, but lingered longer on the second. "Your first image portrays a sense of dignity and self-control not apparent in the second option. The second pose is quite _human_ in nature."

"You're right. I like the second one much better." She pressed a button to discontinue the projection of the first image.

"That is not what I said."

"I am well aware of your words, my son."

"Father will not approve."

"It's for my private collection." Amanda pressed a button on her holodisk to end the projection. "I'll send you a copy if you wish."

"It would not be appropriate to have it in my possession."

"There's a policy against Starfleet officers having photos of their mothers? That seems rather extreme to me."

"There should not be an appearance of inappropriate relations between a cadet and a superior officer."

"We all had dinner together in a public place. Was there something improper about that?"

"Yes, that particular activity was, indeed, in the public view and would less likely arouse the appearance of impropriety. However, the possession of an image is another matter."

"The possession of an image is a private act which should be not be of anyone else's concern."

"There are few matters one can categorize as private within the ranks of Starfleet. As you well know, the same is true of the diplomatic corps. While it is unlikely such an image would find its way into the hands of those who would seek to embarrass or discredit father, it is not impossible."

Without hesitation, Amanda found the image on her holodisk and pressed a button. "All right. I have erased the _offending_ image."

"You know it is for the best, mother."

"When your father married me, I knew he risked both his professional and family reputation. If he were not the man that he is, I doubt if our relationship could have survived all of these years. I naively thought over time opinions of both Vulcans and humans would become more tolerant of our marriage, but that has not proven to be the case . . . at least, with my generation. And you, my son, it deeply pains me to know how you have suffered."

Spock saw his mother's eyes well up with tears, evoking his steadfast declaration, "Do not grieve for me, mother. I am proud to be your son."

Amanda wanted to put her arms around him and hold him close. However, when she had attempted to do so in the past, his Vulcan persona rebuffed her. Although the denial of her touch did hurt her, this was no time to air that baggage. In his own way, Spock was asserting his love for her. She thought, _Knowing this is all that matters._

In the only Vulcan gesture permissible between parent and child to show deep affection, she placed her hand over her heart and bowed slightly. Spock returned the gesture as Sarek entered the suite. The sight greatly pleased the diplomat, but Vulcan decorum prohibited any notice of it by someone not directly involved in the activity.

Amanda spoke first. "Did all go well during the briefing, my husband?"

"As expected, my aides were quite thorough in preparing me for the Federation summit. There is still a matter involving the Andorians for which I could use your counsel." Such a request from his father was not a surprise to Spock. He was well aware of how his father treated his mother as a trusted confidante in state affairs, especially when dealing with those races prone to be led by passions rather than logic.

"Of course, Sarek." Amanda answered. "Excuse me, while I take this package to our bedroom." As she left them, both men knew she used the package as an excuse to give them time alone to talk with each other. However, this was entirely a human construct, as Vulcans did not engage in conversation unless there was a purpose to do so. Still, to please Amanda, the two attempted to create some semblance of dialogue.

Sarek began, "I trust your dinner was palatable."

"As well as can be expected of Terran chefs."

"And what of your mother's guest? A cadet from the Academy named Nyota, was it not?"

"Yes, Cadet Nyota Uhura."

"A human, I assume."

"Yes, father, that is a fact."

Sarek shook his head. "Then you were probably subjected to an evening of what humans call _girl talk_. As you know, your mother is quite an intelligent woman. However, there are times she derives pleasure from this type of activity when she is with one of her own kind."

It took Spock time to consider his response. Although married to a human, Sarek sometimes displayed the same arrogant attitude toward Terrans shared by most other Vulcans. "I do not know if mother and Ms. Uhura indulged in that manner of dialogue earlier in the day. However, this evening Ms. Uhura consented to accommodating our Vulcan dining traditions. Also, when conversation was permissible, I found our discussion to be quite . . . stimulating."

Sarek reflected on his son's tone. While most would perceive simple reportage, he detected something in Spock's voice that was decidedly not Vulcan. "Were you acquainted with Ms. Uhura prior to this evening?"

Before Spock could answer, Amanda hurried into the room holding a red scarf in her hand. "Spock, I have no idea how this happened, but somehow Nyota's scarf ended up with my package of clothing. I saw her wear it earlier when she acted as a tour guide."

Sarek suggested, "We could have someone at the hotel front desk send it to the Academy."

"Sarek, since I am responsible for this mix-up, I would feel better if I knew Spock would ensure its return to her. My son, could you not do this for me?"

Spock regarded his mother with a wary eye, but held out his hand to receive it. "I will accept it, mother."

Amanda smiled as she placed it in his hand. As he lightly enclosed his fingers on the article so not to crush it, he felt some other item between the folds. Spock looked to his mother, but she just smiled innocently.

Spock continued. "With this task in hand, I believe it is time for me to be on my way back to campus."

"Spock." Amanda protested. "I thought you could spare the time to have a cup of tea with us."

"With your early morning flight, I do not wish to impose on your time to rest before your journey." Spock held his hand up in the Vulcan salute. "Live long and prosper."

Sarek returned the salute and answered. "Peace and long life." Spock nodded to his parents and left the suite.

Alone with his wife, Sarek turned his attention to her cocktail dress. "Amanda, is that the attire you wore in public?"

"Yes, my husband." Amanda smiled as she turned her body to show off the dress. "I bought this earlier today, when Nyota and I were out window shopping. Does it please you?"

"Your bare arms and that opening in the front of your dress are hardly appropriate for the wife of the Vulcan Ambassador to the United Federation of Planets."

Feigning disappointment, Amanda responded, "Then I suppose I will need to rid myself of it."

Amanda noticed a slight tremble on the Vulcan's upper lip as he seemed to scrutinize her little black dress. "I believe I may need assist you in the removal of this article. You will join me in the bedroom, _immediately_."

With a sullen face, Amanda continued to act the part of the wronged wife as she followed Sarek into the bedroom. However, she could hardly contain a girlish giggle as she anticipated her husband's _assistance_ in the matter. She thought happily, _Despite Spock's gesture, I doubt if Sarek and I will get much rest tonight."_

Her head spinning from the events of the day, Uhura was relieved when she walked into her dorm room and saw no signs Gaila had yet returned from the holiday break. The East African cadet did not feel like explaining her new clothes, swollen lip or dinner companions to anyone. She reasoned, _Who would believe it, anyways? I spent the day with Amanda Grayson, the renowned cultural xenologist by trying on makeup and clothes. Then, I dined with her and noted Science Officer, Mr. Spock! It's all too crazy._

Uhura removed the makeup from her face and changed her attire in favor of a loose fitting t-shirt and sweat pants. She then sat down at her desk and thought, _I can still get in a couple of hours of language disks before going to bed._ Popping a Tellarite language disk into her player, she chose to practice vocabulary before working with a dialogue program. Seven minutes later, her communicator sounded. She started not to pick it up, but then thought if it might be Gaila.

The cadet picked up the communicator and spoke, "Uhura."

"Hey, it's Jim."

"And McCoy."

Jim spoke, again. "We wanted to know if you could come out to play."

"I just started on a Tellarite language disk." She answered. "So, I'm in for the night."

"Oh, no. Bones and I didn't walk all the way over to your dorm for you to turn us down."

"You're outside?" She walked to the window and peeked through the shades to see the two men standing several stories below on the ground. "Is that you?" Kirk and Bones waved their arms. "Poor babies." Uhura teased. "Did the dorm director change the code, again, so you couldn't _slip_ _in_ for your usual nighttime activities?"

"All right . . . all right." Kirk responded. "I'll break that code, too. I just haven't had enough time to crack it. But that's not my immediate concern. You see, I left you alone all day –"

"No, _I _made him leave you alone all day." McCoy interrupted.

"OK – Bones made me leave you alone all day so you could _study_."

"_Study_ – is not a dirty word."

"During our holiday break it is. Now, listen, we have just one night left before campus curfew goes back into effect. And with one more night of freedom, it shouldn't be wasted on learning the so-called language of the pig people."

"That isn't very PC of you."

"Are you coming or not?" Jim shouted, becoming impatient.

Uhura usually enjoyed Kirk's company, but she did not like to be pushed into anything. Just as she began to refuse their invitation, she heard McCoy assume his southern gentleman's voice.

"Now, darling. I know it's not one of your favorite games, but there's an all-night poker game just getting started in an off-campus suite a bunch of us chipped in to rent. There going to be plenty of food and drink. And Jody and Arturo said they would bring their guitars so we'll have some down home music."

"Did you say there'll be an all-night poker game?" Uhura asked, remembering what Amanda had told her about how the game could inform one about _tells_ – a key to understanding Vulcan nonverbal communication.

"Yes, but as I was saying, there will be other – "

Uhura grabbed her jacket as she headed out the door, while saying, "I'll be right down!"

Ordinarily, Spock would have briskly walked the 12 miles back to campus from his parents' hotel and arrived at the Academy in less than 90 minutes. However, he took a SkyCab to quicken his arrival time. He reasoned, _I am sure by now Nyota has discovered her missing scarf and would appreciate its return as soon as possible._

The Vulcan had, yet, to remove the object from the scarf he had earlier detected. He did not know if his mother had placed it there for him or the cadet. He decided it made sound sense to investigate the matter further.

From the scarf, Spock removed what turned out to be a paper note folded in half and addressed to him in his mother's handwriting. He opened the note, which read, _Your father may not approve, but I do. Remember – You can't choose whom to love. Love chooses you._

"Nyota." Spock called her name, drawing the attention of the driver as he parked the cab at the Academy entrance.

"Did you call for me, sir?" The driver asked.

Deep in thought about the message, Spock did not respond to the driver's question. He paid his fare and headed toward the graduate student women's dorm.

The Vulcan pondered over the line, _Love chooses you._ He wondered, _While the two women waited inside the restaurant for a SkyCab, did Nyota confess love for him? Could she . . . did she love him?_

Spock consciously fought against the urge to quicken his pace. He thought, _It would be unseemly for a Vulcan to do so._ _I will arrive at her living quarters in due time and will ask the dormitory director to summon her in order to return her scarf. After the cadet expresses her gratitude, I will ask her directly, 'Do you possess expressions of love for me?' Her response will then confirm or refute what is implied in mother's note._

With note and scarf in hand, Spock neared the dorm and saw two men waiting outside. One resembledthe doctor who attended to Nyota and two other cadets who were missing for a period during a first year training mission*. The position of the other man's body did not allow his identification.

However, there was no mistaking the woman who came out to join them. Nyota's bright smile met these men for whom she seemed to have great familiarity. Spock watched as she straightened the jacket collar of the doctor and then playfully pushed him away as he appeared to start to examine her lip. She then joined arms with the men as they stood on either side of her. And then the Vulcan noted the trio proceeded to walk . . . no, skip away, while singing . . . Spock stilled himself to make out the words . . . _We're off to see the wizard?_

Later that evening, a gentle rain began to fall about the campus grounds.

And . . . in one recycle bin near the graduate student women's dorm . . . a handwritten paper note became wet with the water that seeped through the lid of the receptacle . . . as the ink ran . . . words were lost . . . meaning suffered . . . a heart broken.

**Author's Notes: **

*The incident is told in Chapters 9-17.

Your comments are always welcome.


	31. Chapter 31 I Approve

**Author's Note:** Chapter 31 is the continuation of a storyline that began with Chapter 28. Occurring during Uhura's second year as a Starflet cadet, this chapter involves Pike, Spock, Jack and Uhura.

Your comments are always welcome.

Seven weeks into the winter semester, Spock and Christopher Pike finished their usual Friday morning breakfast at their favorite diner. Although they usually tried to avoid it, Spock seemed most interested in talking about the progress of the work on the latest model of the Enterprise. Both men sat on the Oversight Committee with ten higher ranking Starfleet Officers. However, among the committee members only Spock had the intellectual capacity to scrutinize all aspects of the building and operations of the new StarShip.

Pike commented, "I understand the revised plans for the warp drive engine will be presented to the Oversight Committee on Tuesday."

"Yes. Last Wednesday, I used the transporter to travel to Germany in order to review the redesign plans and inspect the plant. I made a few minor recommendations that I believe will improve the efficiency of the warp drive engine by .000017%."

To the average person, such an increase in efficiency would hardly seem significant. However, over the life of the ship, such an increase in performance could be critical under certain life-threatening circumstances. "Well done, Spock. Did you find the plant technologically capable of building the engine according to these new specifications."

"I am acquainted with the Production Manager who is known as T'Lau. She is a Vulcan woman highly competent in this field. Moreover, she has the expertise and experience to make sure the necessary technological modifications are made to meet the revised requirements."

"A Vulcan Project Manager at a German engineering firm? Isn't that a bit unusual?"

"If involved, it is true Vulcans are usually hired as consultants rather than in a managerial role. However, the firm's CEO felt her employment to be more palatable in this case if hired as a regular employee."

"Ah, yes . . . " Pike recalled. "It's the politicians who keep the controversy alive concerning the hiring of non-Terrans in lucrative consulting contracts. We give lip-service to ideals about hiring the _best person for the job_. However, what we Terrans really mean is we should hire the best person as long as that person looks like us. I wonder when we can just be blind to those differences and just treat everyone the same."

"Sir, I believe your are mixing two opposing thoughts here. I do believe we should be advocates of social justice for all beings despite their planet of origin. However, I do not ask anyone to be _blind_ to those characteristics that shape who we are. As a Vulcan living on Earth I am keenly aware of these distinctions. In addition to the biological differences, our race has distinct traditions, history, language and patterns of behavior and thought, which sets us apart from others. Yes, there are commonalities, but I embrace the diversity between us."

Pike took a moment to reflect on his friend's words. As an uncompromising liberal man, the Captain prided himself on the tolerance he held for other cultures – even for those he felt morally opposed. Pike, along with other like-minded beings, were ardent advocates of the Federation adoption of the prime directive.1 He frankly could not image life without the richness and complexities one encountered through contact with diverse beings.

"Thank you, my friend, for reminding me of what I should already know."

Spock considered his statement before he retorted. "Captain, I am not sure the reason for your gratitude, but I have come to know humans often feel obliged to make such expressions. Thus, in a state of ignorance, I accept your sense of appreciation for my sentiments."

Pike smiled. _Despite Spock's biracial heritage, could he possibly be any more Vulcan?_ When the Captain's communicator sounded, Pike shook his head. "It's Jack." Answering the call, he took on a parental tone. "Yes, son. Are you ready to leave for school, yet?"

"Almost. I'm looking for my blue shirt."

"I'm assuming you looked in your closet."

"Yeah. And, it's not in the hamper."

"Jack – very few of your clothes actually ever end up in the hamper. Did you look on the floor or - "

"I know, Dad. You're going to ask me if I looked in the _black hole_ under my bed. Yeah, I looked there, too. I still can't find it."

"When was the last time you wore it?"

"I think . . . yesterday . . . no, a couple of days, ago."

"Then . . . look on the hook on the back of the bathroom door."

"Oh, yeah." Pike heard Jack's footsteps and the opening of a door. "Found it!"

"All right, now that the crises is over you need to hurry up and get ready for school."

"In a minute, Dad. Is Mr. Spock, there?"

"You know I always have breakfast with Mr. Spock on Fridays."

"Can I speak with him?"

"You need to get to school."

"Just for a minute, Dad. I need to ask him something about _the job_."

Pike hesitated and looked to Spock. When the Vulcan nodded, the Captain handed the communicator to him.

"Spock, here."

"Mr. Spock, I just want to make sure each plant gets 15 milliliters of water and one frozen mouse."

"You are correct about the measure of the liquid. However, the plants cannot digest a frozen mouse. I have left three on a plate on a table nearby the plants. This foodstuffs will be unthawed by the time you perform your caretaking tasks after school."

"That's funny Mr. Spock."

"Please explain."

"Vulcans are vegetarians, but their plants eat meat."

"As sentient beings we have a choice of what we eat; however, these particular plants from my home planet do not have the biological composition to enable them to make such a preference. Instead, thousands of years of evolutionary changes have dictated what these organisms require to survive."

"Huh?"

"It is not important you comprehend this lesson at the moment. However, I am pleased you have assumed this after school activity."

"Yes, sir. We'll be right there."

Pike retrieved the communicator from Spock. "Jack, who is we?"

"Bruce and me."

"Bruce?"

"You know, Dad . . . my friend, Bruce. We've started a business."

"With one client?"

"Well, Dad, it always starts with one – right?"

"Jack, Mr. Spock agreed to _you_ going into his apartment, not two boys."

"I don't think Mr. Spock will mind." Thinking it necessary to b heard, Jack yelled, "DO YOU MIND, MR. SPOCK?"

Although Spock nodded, Pike hesitated before relaying the response. "Mr. Spock gave his consent. But, you boys should just go in, do what you are being paid to do, them leave. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Jack, it was generous of Mr. Spock to give you a chance to earn credits for that new music crystal player you want, but I don't want you and your friend to –"

"Dad?" Jack interrupted.

"What is it, son?"

"I better go or I'll be late for school. Love ya', Dad."

Pike knew full well his son was more interested in avoiding one of his lectures, than in getting to school on time. However, under the circumstances he felt he could give him some slack . . . at least, this time.

"I love you, Jack."

Walking back to campus, Spock and Pike did not keep their usual brisk pace. The Captain could sense when something troubled the Vulcan; yet, he knew it would be best if Spock raised the issue. As they entered the Academy grounds, Pike's friend finally spoke.

"You said it so easily."

"Said what?"

"You told Jack of your affection for him."

"Oh . . . you mean telling Jack _I love him?"_ I try to do so everyday."

"Why is it necessary?"

"Humans need expressions of love. They don't feel whole without love. Children, especially, need love to experience a sense of security."

"I do not recall ever hearing those words from my father. As for my mother, I have memories of her saying it when I was very, very young. Yet, I received everything I required. I wanted for nothing."

"I suppose you don't miss what you've never had."

"I loved Leila. She loved me. We had that."

Pike recalled this Hawaiian woman who had befriended the Vulcan during his first two years at the Academy. She left the service before completing her Starfleet commitment to join an experimental ecological commune on a class M planet unaffiliated with the Federation. The Captain heard she asked Spock to join her, but he declined to go with her.

"I'm sorry, my friend. I know do know of your affections for this woman."

Spock continued. "I couldn't express this emotion to her and I know this inability to do so is what drove her away from me."

Pike sensed he needed to consider his words carefully. The Vulcan appeared more vulnerable now than he had ever seen him – even on the day they went to the Brooklyn Bridge.2

"Spock, does this subject have anything to do with the woman . . . the cadet you've told me about?"

"Yes, sir."

"I thought we dealt with this matter. You were no longer going to be involved with her."

"Unexpectedly, our paths crossed, again."

Suddenly, Pike spoke in an authoritative tone as he asked, "Have you had _relations_ with her?"

The Vulcan directly met the other man's eyes knowing full well the meaning behind the euphemism the Captain had employed. Pike was his friend, but also his superior officer – a role he knew the Captain did not take lightly.

"No, sir. I have not had _relations_ with her; however, not because I did not have the desire. The opportunity never presented itself and I have some reason to doubt if that desire was ever mutual."

Relieved, Pike now assumed a more relaxed tone. "How did you come to that conclusion?"

"I am aware many humans think of Vulcans as arrogant. I always thought this to be an unfortunate characterization of a people who in general are of superior intellect and much more advanced than Terrans."

Pike chose not to comment.

Spock continued. "However, careful analysis of my association with the cadet proved my arrogance to have led to my belief she wanted . . . no, needed me in a way which would complement my need for her." Spock paused before he could speak the next words. "That was not the case. I learned she is involved with someone. _He_ is a cadet who also happens to be a student in my ethics course this semester. You may know him, sir. His name is Dr. Leonard McCoy."

Pike did, indeed, know of Dr. McCoy who he first became acquainted during last year's Moretti incident.3

Pike commented. "I am sure you have conducted yourself appropriately in light of the circumstances."

"Yes, sir. I know you would not expect or tolerate anything less."

On the first day of the semester, Spock checked his chronometer as students continued to arrive in the seminar room and took their seats around a large table. He noted only 45 seconds remained before he would begin class. None of the cadets spoke to each other in casual discussion upon entering the space. Few would have willingly chosen to elect his section. Well aware of his reputation as a highly, demanding instructor, most chose the path of least resistance by following instructions and doing just enough _to get by_ in order not to repeat this required course.

Just as Spock saw the time had come to begin class, Dr. Leonard McCoy's sudden entrance surprised him.

_The man_ who had attended to Nyota and two other cadets who were missing for a period during a first year training mission . . . ._the man_ for whom he saw Nyota straighten his collar and come in contact with him in a _most familiar way_ . . . _the man _who along with one other took joined arms with Nyota and skip away like children singing something about going to see a wizard.

_This man_ who Nyota had _willingly touched_ _in public with no hesitation _. . . _this man_ now sat at the conference table waiting for instruction.4

Using his tricorder, Spock accessed the class roster and scrolled down the list. The Vulcan was sure the doctor's name was not there when he examined the roster the day before as he prepared for the class. However, Spock's eyes now locked onto McCoy's name now appearing among the other students with the notation the course was added to the doctor's schedule at 8:27 AM that morning.

Spock looked up from his tricorder to find the doctor had brazenly began a conversation with two other students sitting next to him.

The Vulcan spoke sternly. "The cadets who are talking. Beginning with you." Spock nodded to a young blonde man. "Identify yourself."

The young man hesitated, not wanting to distinguish himself on the first day as the object of his instructor's displeasure. However, he knew he had to comply. "Per Helgason, sir."

"And you." Spock looked to a woman next to McCoy.

Speaking so softly, only the Vulcan's ears could hear, "Lastri Pasaribu, sir."

"Leave the kids alone, sir." The doctor spoke up before Spock had a chance to acknowledge him. "I'm Leonard McCoy and I take full responsibility for disturbing the decorum or whatever else you found to be improper." Older than most of the other cadets and secure in his own abilities, McCoy could not easily be intimidated – not even by the most formidable instructor at the Academy.

Spock considered McCoy's comments. The first words probably crossed the line of what would normally be tolerated from a subordinate. However, the Vulcan had learned from Pike it was sometimes more effective to dismiss such comments, than making it appear more significant than it actually was.

"Cadets Helgason, Pasaribu and McCoy." The Vulcan addressed them. "Ordinarily, I would not want to interrupt any _profound_ dialogue I am sure the three of you were engaged. However, in deference to those students who actually came here to learn, do I have your permission to begin class?"

Helgason and Pasaribu took the question to be rhetorical and did not dare to respond. However, the oft-cynical McCoy enjoyed the satiric undertones of his instructor's comments and readily retorted with a smile, "If you are prepared to do so, sir, we're ready to see what you have to offer."

Again, speaking in the present to Pike, Spock commented. "The doctor's disarming response evoked laughter from his peers, but it caused me no concern. In past classes, of course there had been exceptional students who from day one came well prepared to address whatever topic the course posed. However, it usually took several weeks for me to elicit meaningful dialogue from most of the other students. This time McCoy's influence served to breakdown unwarranted barriers between his classmates and myself to allow more engaged participation at an earlier point than in past courses."

"McCoy made you appear more human."

"I see no reason to insult me, sir."

Pike chose to ignore Spock's backhanded comment. "Obviously, McCoy has proven himself to be an asset to your course. Also, if you were to check further, you would realize Starfleet is fortunate he chose to enlist. He's a gifted surgeon and psychologist, as well as a noted xenobiologist."

"Indeed, sir, I am well aware of his background and qualifications having made a thorough review of Dr. McCoy's file."

"Spock – "

"After all, sir." The Vulcan interrupted. "I do recall you once advising faculty to learn as much about our students as possible in order to better identify and nurture their strengths."

Pike marveled at how Spock could use his memory as though a tactical weapon. However, the Captain was not ready to _surrender, _yet. "So, you want me to believe your _research activities_ had nothing to do with your shared interest in a certain female cadet?"

"Only tangentially, sir."

"Sounds like a direct correlation to me."

"Not in the way you imagine, Captain. Not since yesterday when I told her my approval."

"Approval of _what_?"

Spock worked alone in his office reading progress reports on current research projects. Immersed in writing detailed feedback, he did not readily notice the entrance of Uhura. Dressed in her cadet's uniform, the East African woman stood awaiting his recognition. When he did not seem to be aware of her presence, she decided to speak.

"Sir."

The Vulcan's indifferent facial expression, shielded the pleasure of discovery.

"Cadet Uhura. What brings you to the physical sciences building?"

"I lost something and wondered if your mother found it. On the day Amanda and I spent together, I was wearing a red neck scarf as part of my Academy Ambassador's uniform. When we changed into our evening attire, I thought I placed it in a package with my other clothing but when I later looked for it I could not find it."

"It's been four weeks and three days since that time. Why have you waited until now to inquire about it?"

She hesitated before giving her answer. "At the beginning of the semester, I had so much going on with all of my classes and the weekend military training exercises. It was only until I was scheduled to conduct another tour that I remembered I didn't have it."

"Did you contact my mother about the matter?"

"I attempted to do so, but my communications were returned."

"That is not unusual given the nature of my father's work."

"She warned it might be difficult to get messages through. My experience, thus far, has supported that counsel."

"Indeed, it has."

"Mr. Spock, do you believe you could contact her?"

"My relationship to my parents provides me with no advantage under these circumstances."

Awkward moments passed, when no words were spoken.

Spock finally broke the silence. "Ms. Uhura, I am well aware a cadet's income is rather limited. I could purchase a replacement for you."

"I couldn't ask you to do that. It was my carelessness that led to this problem."

Another pause. Then Spock asked, "Is there anything else, Ms. Uhura?"

The cadet cast her eyes down as in thought. Then, suddenly, she lifted her head as her face brightened. "I understand a friend of mine is taking your ethics course this semester. Bones . . . I mean is name is Leonard McCoy."

"_Dr._ Leonard McCoy?"

"Yes, sir. He is a physician."

"Then I confirm the doctor is one of the students in my ethics course."

Smiling, she asked as though already knowing the answer. "Well, how is he doing?"

"Ms. Uhura, you must be aware I cannot divulge information regarding the performance of a cadet to his peer."

"Sir, I wasn't asking for any privileged information."

"Then, what exactly was the intent of your inquiry?"

"I suppose I was just trying to engage in a conversation, Mr. Spock."

"A conversation with Dr. McCoy as the focus. Why would you believe that subject might engage me, Ms. Uhura?

Although become agitated by his response, she confessed, "I'm the one who suggested he elect your course section."

"Explain."

"Oddly enough, I thought the two of you might get along. I understand you're his superior officer, but there are noteworthy commonalities. You both are probably near the same age in Terran years, distinguished in your respective fields, and seem to have a skeptical outlook on life."

"The doctor has qualities that remind you of me."

"I would not quite put it that way." She answered warily.

"In what manner does the essence of my statement differ from your comments?"

Her voice rose involuntarily. "Mr. Spock, the statement implies _you_ are central to my thoughts."

"I stand corrected, you have made it clear Dr. McCoy plays that role."

"Sir!"

"You need not speculate for another moment. I approve."

"You approve of _what_, Mr. Spock?"

"Ms. Uhura, this afternoon you have come to my office under the facade of locating a scarf which has previously been of little consequence to you for the past 34 days. Then you initiate a dialogue concerning a particular cadet who you find the need to make comparisons to me. Taking your actions and words into account, I can surmise your actual purpose of your visitation."

"Please enlighten me, sir." She knew her sarcastic tone could be deemed insubordinate, but that was the least of her concerns.

Spock coolly commented. "It is obvious you wanted to ask my opinion of Dr. McCoy as a companion for you. While your request is highly unorthodox, it is reasonable for someone unsure of her judgment on a particular matter to seek appropriate guidance from someone of more maturity."

"Mr. Spock!"

"I can assure you there is no need for further speculation. I approve of your relationship with Dr. McCoy."

Pike stared at Spock with mouth agape.

"Captain, amazingly your reaction mirrors that of the cadet."

Finding his voice, Pike asked, "Besides her facial expression, did she make any other comment concerning your pronouncement?"

"Nothing verbally. Undoubtedly, the cadet was so overwhelmed with relief by my judgment, she could not find her voice."

As his friend for over a decade, the Captain knew Spock not to be as naïve as he portrayed. While not aware of Spock's rationale for his treatment of the young woman, Pike was sure it must be logical – at least, in this Vulcan's mind.

That evening, Spock entered his apartment after spending most of the day at the quantum physics research lab. He checked his plants, satisfied when finding evidence Jack and his partner had cared for them as instructed. The Vulcan then prepared and ate a bowl of Plomeek soup and enjoyed a cup of tea. He performed his nightly ritual of meditation and taking care of hygiene needs, before heading to bed.

Lying down on his back, Spock closed his eyes to sleep with his head cushioned by a small pillow covering a _red scarf_.

**Author's Notes: **

The next chapter will provide Uhura's POV. I will try to have it posted this weekend.

Your comments are always welcome.

1 "The Directive states that members of Starfleet are not to interfere in the internal affairs of another species, especially the natural development of pre-warp civilizations, either by direct intervention, or technological revelation." (/wiki/Prime_Directive)

2 Chapter 21

3 Chapters 9-17

4 See the end of Chapter 30


	32. Chapter 32 Touch Part I

**Author's Note:** Chapter 32 is the continuation of a storyline that began with Chapter 28. Occurring during Uhura's second year as a Starflet cadet, this chapter involves Uhura, Spock, Gaila, Kirk and McCoy. The chapter deals with Uhura's POV to her meeting with Spock first mentioned in Chapter 31.

Your comments are always welcome.

_What was that! _Uhura's thoughts screamed as she left Spock's office. _That man! . . . That arrogant Vulcan!_ She hurried away from the Physical Sciences Building toward the Rec Hall. Ordinarily, at this time of day, she would spend her time in the language lab. However, she was so incensed by _that man_ Uhura knew she would not be good for anything else that day if she did not try to release some of her fury.

Thinking back over the past month, she could not have predicted her latest encounter with Mr. Spock.

Just before the semester began, the day she spent with Spock's mother, Amanda Grayson, could not have been better. Together, the East African and the wife of the Vulcan Ambassador talked, laughed, and played as though they had known each other for years, instead of mere hours. Uhura imagined this would have been the type of relationship enjoyed with her own mother if she had lived. Although only knowing Amanda for a short period of time, she relished the woman's company and hoped to build upon the rapport she sensed they shared.

Amanda's son . . . Mr. Spock . . . What about Mr. Spock? While he shared little physical resemblance to his mother, Amanda certainly left her mark on her son through the other qualities they shared. Uhura found them both to be intellectual, sophisticated, and attractive. Yet, they could also be playfully mischievous, manipulative, and _secretive_ as demonstrated through the dinner the three of them had shared together.

Fragments of the evening frequently came to her mind . . . her surprise when learning Amanda's relationship to Mr. Spock . . .engaging dialogue . . . veiled comments . . . stolen glances . . . the blackish blue pla-savas fruit . . . deep silences . . . double entendres . . . something unspoken . . . uncertain expectations . . . unmet desires . . .

_His eyes on me . . . _

_My eyes on him . . ._

Despite all their differences . . . the misunderstandings . . . the ignorance . . . for the first time she was certain there was _something_ between them . . . _But what? _

Although Amanda gave Uhura not-too-subtlehints of support of the relationship with her son, that did not matter. The cadet felt she could not overtly declare her feelings toward Mr. Spock – her superior officer and an Academy instructor. After all, if her assumptions were refuted, she could be subject to serious charges leading to the end of her Starfleet career.

There were times when she did not want to think about it. Uhura did not want to believe it possible for him _not_ to have _feelings_ for her.

Then there were times . . .

In her room, Uhura worked at her desk reading on her desktop computer. Gaila came out of the bathroom in a robe, while drying her hair with a towel.

"I still don't know why you don't want to come out with us, tonight."

Keeping her eyes on the screen, Uhura answered. "Since the semester started several weeks ago, you know I've been out more than I usually have been. So, I think I can use my rain check this time without too much pestering. Am I right, Gaila?"

"Hey, you know I'm not the one who's going to give you a hard time. Your _boyfriend_ and his shadow will be here in a few minutes and – "

Uhura turned in her chair to look directly at Gaila. "Kirk _is not_ my boyfriend."

Knowing she pushed one of Uhura's buttons, she decided to continue pressing as she dressed. "Strange how everyone else seems to think otherwise. Ever since that incident with you and Kirk during our first year training mission, you haven't dated anyone else."

"As you well know, that incident involved three of us – me, Kirk _and_ Moretti. There was definitely nothing romantic about almost dying for lack water and food. And, Kirk and I _are not_ dating."

"What about the holidays? Didn't you spend them with Kirk?"

"We were on security detail. And, I told you that one of my girlfriends was here. He spent as much time with her as he did with me."

"You said your friend was here for only two days, Uhura. You never told me what else you did for the other ten days _with Kirk._"

"For most of the time, I studied Klingon syntax. Later, I gave tours right before the semester began. Really, Gaila if I were to go into detail about my so-called life you would be bored to tears. Now can I get back to my studies?" Uhura turned back to her screen, but knew her roommate was in a playful mood and would not to give up her teasing so easily.

"What about your mystery man?"

"What mystery man?"

"The one you told me about when you waited with me at the airport. The one you said took you to Brooklyn."

Uhura now regretted she had told the Orion about Mr. Spock taking her to the Brooklyn Bridge and his cold reaction upon the revelation of her father's xenophobic convictions. Luckily, she had the presence of mind not to have disclosed his identity and she was not about to do so now.

Gaila continued. "Did you see him?"

Not turning from her screen, she answered. "First, Kirk and now the _mystery man._ Come on, Gaila, don't you have anything else to do?"

No sooner had Uhura completed her sentence that she felt a pillow hit her face.

The East African stood up quickly and asked, "What was that for?"

"You were blowing me off." Gaila retorted.

"I was not!" Uhura dodged quickly as another pillow came her way.

"Come on, Gaila." The Orion mocked her roommate. "Don't you have anything else to do?"

Gaila could not move quickly enough to miss the impact of the pillow Uhura hurled her way.

Picking up the offending pillow as she saw Uhura reach for the other one, Gaila shouted, "All right, you asked for it. Now, you're going to get it!"

"Bring it on, sister!" The two women square off, and then start hitting each other with the pillows. Just as their room door slid open, their hits lost their force as they women fell on one of the beds in hysterics.

Kirk and McCoy join in the laughter as they walk toward the bed.

McCoy asked Kirk, "What are we laughing about?"

"I don't know, but –" A pillow hits Kirk in the face before he can complete his sentence.

"Now, that's fun-" McCoy almost got the last word out of his mouth, when a pillow quieted him.

"Hey, what's that for?" Kirk protested, feigning to be hurt.

"I told you about coming into this room without buzzing." Uhura answered. "I don't know how you keep finding a way to circumvent the dorm's security system, but I don't like it."

"Well, one day you might need me to get in here."

"For what?" Uhura came off the bed and faced Kirk.

"You know . . . " Kirk looked over to McCoy who gave him the "_you're on your own"_ look.

"James."

Kirk turned back to her. "I told you, only my mother calls me James_._"

"_James_." She stepped closer to him until inches from his face. She told him sternly, "Use the buzzer next time."

Matching her tone, he answered. "As you wish." Uhura started to step back, when stopped by Kirk's addition to his reply. "Florence."

McCoy laughed, but Gaila responded by hitting Kirk in the face with a pillow. "Not the name thing, again." The Orion complained.

Before Kirk could reply, the doctor intervened. "I hate to break up the fun, but if we're going to the 10:15 movie we better get a move on."

Gaila hurriedly got up from the bed and headed toward the bathroom, "Wait a minute. I didn't get a chance to get on my makeup."

"Gaila, it'll be dark." McCoy called after her. "Who's going know?" The bathroom door slammed in response. Looking toward Uhura who was dressed in sweats, the doctor commented. "At least you're being sensible. You obviously don't think you need to look good just to go to the movies."

Uhura reached for a pillow, but Kirk snatched it up to McCoy's delight.

"Thanks for the compliment." She sarcastically told him. "However, I'm not going out tonight."

"You're going to miss a Brick Monday action film?" Kirk questioned her. "I thought he was one of your favorites."

"Brick Monday isn't going to help me pass an exam on Troyian grammar next week."

"The exam is probably not scheduled until Friday."

"So, what if it is? I know what I can do and what I can't do, Kirk."

Kirk looked to McCoy, but the doctor shook his head. "Hey, don't think I'm going to try to convince her to do otherwise this time. I probably should be back in my room right now working on a paper for that Vulcan. Instead, I know I'll end up pulling an all-nighter tomorrow to get it done."

"A paper for Mr. Spock's ethics class?" Uhura asked.

"Yeah. The work is kicking my ass, but if I must say so I'm actually enjoying it. I guess it's just the masochist in me."

"You're _enjoying_ the class that everyone tries to stay out of?" Kirk asked.

"Don't get me wrong, his tongue can be cutting at times, especially if you come to class unprepared for the day's topic. However, he has this sardonic sense of humor that few seem to recognize, but I find refreshing." Turning to Uhura, he continued. "So, I suppose I need to thank you after all."

Uhura smiled, while Kirk asked McCoy, "Thank her for what?"

Gaila bounded out of the bathroom and picked up her purse from bureau. "Ready. Is she going with us?"

"We're leaving her alone tonight. Let's go." McCoy answered before Kirk could attempt another plea.

"All right, But, Uhura, meet us at Casey's Bar later tonight if you change your mind." Gaila told her roommate as the trio headed out the door.

Uhura went back to her desk and refreshed her screen to resume her studies. Just as she resumed reading, she heard the door open and then felt a pillow hit her head before she could defend herself.

"Good night, Uhura." Kirk said innocently as he disappeared behind the closing door.

12:47 AM and Uhura could hardly keep her eyes open. After going through the motions of her nighttime routine, she climbed under the covers wearing an oversized Academy t-shirt.

Eyes now closed, she settled in . . . waiting . . .

He did not disappoint . . .

The Vulcan . . .

He came to her . . .

Tall and stately . . .

Strong, yet delicate hands . . .

And those eyes . . .

Those piercing black eyes . . .

He came to her . . .

And she felt his warmth . . .

He came to her . . .

And she felt his comfort . . .

He came to her . . .

And she felt his _touch_ and drifted off to sleep.

Uhura decided she would no longer wait for Mr. Spock to take the initiative to further explore their _relationship_. Yet, she really did not have a reason to see him. She had already taken his section of the only course he taught required by all cadets. Since they were not in the same discipline, the East African would have little opportunity to see on or off campus except by chance.

Following Amanda's suggestion, for several weeks Uhura frequented cadet-led poker games to study _tells_ as a way to better identify non-verbal communication that may be employed by Mr. Spock. However, this strategy became useless due to lack of contact with the Vulcan to apply what she learned.

Over four weeks had now passed since the dinner with Mr. Spock and Amanda. She wondered, _Why hadn't he made any attempt to contact me?_

_Perhaps_, Uhura reasoned, _he felt himself in the same predicament as me. Wouldn't he be putting his career or at least his reputation in jeopardy by such interactions?_

Uhura had to think of a way to see him without arousing suspicions of inappropriate behavior. She pondered over the matter until she remembered her red neck scarf that had been missing since her day with Amanda and Mr. Spock. Several times she attempted to contact the Vulcan's mother about the article, but the messages were returned. True, by this time the East African had already purchased a replacement scarf, since she needed it to complete her expected Academy Ambassador attire. _However_, she thought, _inquiring about the scarf in light of failure to contact his mother would appear an innocent enough excuse to venture over to his office._

Usually, Uhura enjoyed every minute of Dr. Greeley's seminar in Advanced Phonetics and Phonology. However, that day she had difficulty staying focused and became embarrassed when her instructor caught Uhura checking the time on a chronometer. At the end of class, Uhura quickly gathered her iTablet and tried to hurry out the door, but a voice called her back. The East African knew she had no option, but to heed her advisor's request.

Uhura caught several glances from some of her exiting classmates who savored the fact Dr. Greeley's appeared displeased with her _pet_.

"Yes, Dr. Greeley."

Although one of the few non-military instructors at the Academy, Dr. Greeley still dressed in conservative clothing making her appear much older than her actual age of 42. Impressed by Uhura and her seemingly insatiable drive to learn, the linguist considered the young woman standing before her as a prized protégé whose career she willingly would shepherd with a watchful eye.

"Cadet Uhura, you appeared distracted during our seminar, today."

"I'm sorry, Dr. Greeley. I didn't mean to show any disrespect. Something has been on my mind lately and, unfortunately, I allowed it to affect my attentiveness in class."

"Is there anything you would like to talk about? Whether it concerns academic or persona matters, I assure you I can be a trustworthy confidant."

Uhura was not about to disclose Mr. Spock as the cause of her inattention. However, she knew she would have to give Dr. Greeley _something_ to satisfy her instructor's desire to feel _needed_. To do so, she remembered her friend's Habibah's advice – "_If you can't tell the whole truth, it is best to stay as close to that truth as possible to avoid any slip-ups."_

"Dr. Greeley, I would feel funny talking about a personal matter to you."

The instructor smiled and stated. "There's no need to feel that way. You can talk to me about anything . . . anything at all."

Uhura feigned being hesitant before she spoke, again. "There's this man who I'm interested in. And, I think . . . I at least have the feeling that he's interested in me. But, we've never acted on it. We've never even talked about it."

"I see." Dr. Greeley appeared to reflect upon Uhura's issue before stating, "I assume this is a cadet you're referring to."

"You may assume that." Uhura did not like to lie to anyone and she was fully aware she was on the edge of doing so by not adding to her statement – "_But, you would be wrong to do so."_

"There seems to be only one recourse and that is to take the initiative and deal with the issue head on with the young man. If you don't deal with these unresolved emotions, you'll continue to come to class with your head in the clouds. However, I'd rather you come back here to Earth to continue learning with me."

Uhura did not know what she expected Dr. Greeley to say, but she was pleasantly surprised this scholarly, no-nonsense woman actually was encouraging her to act upon her romantic feelings.

The East African in turn evoked a startled, but agreeable reaction from her advisor when she embraced her. "Thank you, Dr. Greeley. I suppose I just needed a little encouragement." Uhura told her as she released Dr. Greeley from her hold.

"So, I expect to see my _star pupil_ back, tomorrow."

"I won't disappoint." Uhura began to leave the room, but then turned back as something came to mind. "Dr. Greeley, there's something I've been meaning to tell you. Before the semester started, I met someone who I believe you know - Dr. Amanda Grayson." Curiously, her advisor's face did not depict someone pleased to hear such news.

"You met, Dr. Grayson?"

"I didn't even recognize her at first. She was a member of the tour I gave in the Academy Ambassadors program. We started talking and she asked me about my studies. When I told her you served as my advisor, she said she had been on your dissertation committee."

"Did she say anything else?"

"No, ma'am." Uhura noticed Dr. Greeley sigh as if relieved by her response.

"I asked Dr. Grayson to excuse herself from my dissertation committee when it became apparent we did not agree upon a particular approach I used to gather data for my study. Unfortunately, those types of conflicts do occur." She brightened, though it appeared a bit forced. "Hopefully, you will not need to deal with those types of issues when your time comes to go through the process."

"Yes, Dr. Greeley."

Upon entering the massive science and engineering complex, she used an app on her tricorder to navigate through the compound to access the building that held the Vulcan's office. According to the faculty schedule, Mr. Spock had office hours from 4:00 – 6:00 P.M. Checking her chronometer – _4:27 _– she knew she did not need to hurry; however, she felt anxious to see him.

Finally outside Mr. Spock's office, she suddenly hesitated to enter.

_Come on, Uhura. _She told herself. _This is no time to get cold feet._

Just as she thought she would lose her nerve, the office door unexpectedly opened to allow the exit of someone who looked more to be a boy, than a man. If it were not for his cadet uniform and backpack, she would have mistaken him to be someone's teenage child, perhaps, visiting for the day.

"He's in there, if you're here to see, Mr. Spock." The young man told her with a thick Russian accent.

"Yes, I am here to see Mr. Spock." However, she does not move. "Do you need an appointment?"

"No, he runs open office hours." The cadet removed an object from his bag and set it on the floor. "Your first time coming to the Science Czar?"

"Science Czar? Well, actually . . ."

"He's reading progress reports on current research projects, but he'll take time out for his students." The cadet stepped on the object, which suddenly folded out into a levitating skateboard. "Go on in, he won't bite."

The young man scurried away on his board, but did not get far before Uhura heard a booming authoritative voice. "Cadet Chekhov! In my office, mister!"

Uhura entered Mr. Spock's office finding the Vulcan as reported seemingly immersed in reading from a desktop computer while busily typing on an iTablet.

When he did not appear aware of her presence, she decided to speak.

"Sir." Although the face he turned to her held a look of indifference, seeing _him_ presented Uhura a provocative visual reminder of her need to see him.

"Cadet Uhura. What brings you to the physical sciences building?"

"I lost something and wondered if your mother found it. On the day Amanda and I spent together, I was wearing a red neck scarf as part of my Academy Ambassador's uniform. When we changed into our evening attire, I thought I placed it in a package with my other clothing but when I later looked for it I could not find it."

"It's been four weeks and three days since that time. Why have you waited until now to inquire about it?"

_Oh, shit . . . _she thought, _I should have had a ready answer for that question . . . all right, don't panic . . . There's always one answer everyone at the Academy understands._

Uhura addressed Spock. "At the beginning of the semester, I had so much going on with all of my classes and the weekend military training exercises. It was only until I was scheduled to conduct another tour that I remembered I didn't have it."

"Did you contact my mother about the matter?"

"I attempted to do so, but my communications were returned."

"That is not unusual given the nature of my father's work."

"She warned it might be difficult to get messages through. My experience, thus far, has supported that counsel."

"Indeed, it has."

"Mr. Spock, do you believe you could contact her?"

"My relationship to my parents provides me with no advantage under these circumstances."

Awkward moments passed, when no words were spoken.

_Come on, Mr. Spock. It's your turn to pick up the conversation._

The East African was relieved when Spock finally broke the silence. "Ms. Uhura, I am well aware a cadet's income is rather limited. I could purchase a replacement for you."

_Well, that was thoughtful._

"I couldn't ask you to do that, Mr. Spock. It was my carelessness that led to this problem."

Another pause.

_Uhura, say something!_ She told herself, but the Vulcan spoke before she had a chance to do so.

"Is there anything else, Ms. Uhura?"

_All right. You need to find a way to stall, girl, while you think of something._

The cadet cast her eyes down as in thought.

_Got it!_

Uhura's face brightened as she lifted her head. "I understand a friend of mine is taking your ethics course this semester. Bones . . . I mean his name is Leonard McCoy."

"_Dr._ Leonard McCoy?"

"Yes, sir. He is a physician."

"Then I confirm the doctor is one of the students in my ethics course."

Smiling and feeling certain she already knew his response, she asked, "Well, how is he doing?"

"Ms. Uhura, you must be aware I cannot divulge information regarding the performance of a cadet to his peer."

_You've got to be kidding._

"Sir, I wasn't asking for any privileged information."

"Then, what exactly was the intent of your inquiry?"

"I suppose I was just trying to engage in a conversation, Mr. Spock."

"A conversation with Dr. McCoy as the focus. Why would you believe that subject might engage me, Ms. Uhura?"

_I just want to talk with you, damn it. Can't you see that?_

"I'm the one who suggested he elect your course section."

"Explain."

"Oddly enough, I thought the two of you might get along. I understand you're his superior officer, but there are noteworthy commonalities. You both are probably near the same age in Terran years, distinguished in your respective fields, and seem to have a skeptical outlook on life."

"The doctor has qualities that remind you of me."

_Say, what?_

"I would not quite put it that way." She answered warily.

"In what manner does the essence of my statement differ from your comments?"

_Why you egotistical . . . man!_

Her voice rose involuntarily. "Mr. Spock, the statement implies _you_ are central to my thoughts."

"I stand corrected, you have made it clear Dr. McCoy plays that role."

"Sir!"

"You need not speculate for another moment. I approve."

"You approve of _what_, Mr. Spock?"

"Ms. Uhura, this afternoon you have come to my office under the facade of locating a scarf which has previously been of little consequence to you for the past 34 days. Then you initiate a dialogue concerning a particular cadet who you find the need to make comparisons to me. Taking your actions and words into account, I can surmise your actual purpose of your visitation."

_So, he's added mind reader to his list of talents. I've got to hear this._

"Please enlighten me, sir." She knew her sarcastic tone could be deemed insubordinate, but that was the least of her concerns.

Spock coolly commented. "It is obvious you wanted to ask my opinion of Dr. McCoy as a companion for you. While your request is highly unorthodox, it is reasonable for someone unsure of her judgment on a particular matter to seek appropriate guidance from someone of more maturity."

"Mr. Spock!" Her mouth suddenly became agape at his brazen words.

"I can assure you there is no need for further speculation. I approve of your relationship with Dr. McCoy."

Too angry to voice a response, Uhura moved quickly out of the Vulcan's office and did not look back.

Over an hour of swimming laps at the Rec Hall served to calm her. Now allowing herself simply to float, she welcomed the cleansing power of the cool, refreshing water. Drifting aimless down one of the pool lanes, Uhura suddenly felt free . . .

_Free of wondering if his thoughts ever included her . . ._

_Free of waiting for him to indicate any signs of affection toward her . . ._

_Free of desiring his warmth . . ._

_Free of wanting his comfort . . . _

_Free of needing his touch . . ._

_Free of denying her love for a man who was incapable . . . no, unwilling of ever returning it . . ._

_Free . . ._

A week later, in casual civilian clothes Uhura stood before a mirror in her room trying on different pairs of earrings. Gaila entered with her bag slung over a shoulder.

"Going out, again, with Shaughnessy Keller?"

"No, tonight it's with Hakeem Adoyo."

"It's not fair. How come you're the one now going out all the time and I've got to stay in and study."

She decides on a pair of earrings and put the others away. "Really, Gaila, I don't think three dates in seven days is so much."

"It does when your three dates in the last week surpass your total dates over the last year by three." Uhura joined the Orion woman in laughter at the observation.

"I suppose I see what you mean." Uhura commented. "Well, as long as my coursework isn't compromised, I'm going to enjoy this for a while."

"You've got to tell me all about it when it happens."

"When what happens?"

"You know, Uhura, when you finally give it up!"

Without hesitation, the East African responded. "I promise you, Gaila. When I do make that choice,_ you will be the last person I'll tell all about it. Tell Gaila, tell the galaxy."_

"Come on, Uhura, I'm not that bad." She protested, although knowing her roommate's comment was not to be too far from the truth.

Checking herself in the mirror one last time, Uhura picked up her purse from the bureau and started heading toward the door.

"Hey, wait." The Orion's call to her caused Uhura to turn back. "I forgot to give you this package they were holding for you at the front desk."

Uhura accepted a small, plain brown package from Gaila that she had pulled out of her bag. The East African noted only her name on it with no indication of the sender.

"I guess I can open it later."

"What are you waiting for?" Gaila encouraged her. "You're standing there holding it longer than it would take you to see what's inside."

Unable to deny the soundness of her roommate's reasoning, Uhura opened the package by tearing the paper along one of its edges.

As Uhura withdrew the article from its container, Gaila asked, "Who would send you a red scarf?"

**Author's Notes: **

I will _try _to have the next chapter posted by this weekend.

Your comments are always welcome.


	33. Chapter 33 Touch Part II

**Author's Note:** Chapter 33 is the continuation of a storyline that began with Chapter 28. Occurring during Uhura's second year as a Starfleet cadet, this chapter involves Uhura, Spock, Jack, Kirk and McCoy.

Your comments are always welcome.

On the outskirts of the city, Spock and Jack enter an old warehouse packed with thousands of books stacked to the ceiling and people crowding the aisles. Jack noted how the Vulcan stood just inside the entrance taking in the sight.

Captain Pike's eleven year old son asked, "Is something wrong, Mr. Spock?"

"No, Jack."

"Then why did you stop?"

"When you enter a shrine, you should not do so lightly."

"I didn't know it's a shrine. I thought we were just going to a bookstore."

"It _is_ a bookstore. However, you can also think of it as a sacred place of knowledge. There are less than a dozen such places on your planet."

"I'm surprised to see so many people here. After all, you can find anything you want online much easier. My teacher says cutting down trees to make paper for books is not a good use of our resources."

"These are not new books. They are volumes gathered from bookstores, private libraries, and educational institutions not destroyed during your planet's third World War. Therefore, we are actually making better use of available resources, which should satisfy your instructor's environmental concerns."

"I guess so." The boy responded.

"As for the comparison of the two types of media, it is true electronic modes offer greater efficiency and far superior entrée to the known accessible accumulated knowledge of the universe. However, the sheer pleasure one derives from the experience of reading with book in hand cannot be matched by electronic means. It is one of those intangibles which make life worth living."

"Wow, Mr. Spock. You make it sound so good, I'm almost glad to be here."

By now, Spock had grown used to the boy's frank responses and knew the last remark should be taken as a compliment. "I am pleased by your admission that you are _almost_ appreciative of this new adventure."

"I kinda got to. Dad said it would be good for me. Oh, yeah. Speaking of Dad, he said I was supposed to thank you for taking me here."

"Consider your obligation met."

Jack took out a mini-iTablet and looked at the screen. "Dad also gave me some suggestions of books he thought I might like to read . . . _Lord of the Rings_ . . . _The Adventures of Tom Sawyer_ . . . _The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe_ . . . _Shane_ . . . . and _Kim_."

"Fine choices. They are all classics of Terran literature. At the Information Desk, we can ask for assistance to locate them for your review."

"Mr. Spock, after we find the books, do you mind if I can have some time to myself to look them over. You're not my Dad, but – no offense - sometimes you act like my Dad."

"Explain."

"At times, he says I can make my own decision on certain things, but then he kind of makes up my mind for me. You know what I mean?"

The Vulcan held the boy's sincere face with his eyes and could not disappoint him. "I take no offense at being compared to the Captain." The two begin walking toward the Information Desk. "After finding the volumes on your list, I will show you a place where you can peruse them undisturbed until an informed decision can be made just by you."

"Thanks, Mr. Spock. You're all right!" Jack exclaimed, not knowing how much his words pleased the indifferent looking Vulcan.

From another part of the bookstore, Uhura carried a thick hardcover book toward the checkout with classmate Tomeo Shigeta reluctantly trailing behind her. Just as she was about to reach the sales counter, she was drawn to a large bin labeled "Bargain Books."

"Come on, Uhura." Tomeo whined. "You said we were on our way out of here."

As she awkwardly searched through the packed container with a book tucked under one of her arms, "Be patient. I don't want to miss a good deal. Just a few minutes longer."

"We've already been here for nearly two hours." He complained.

"More like 45 minutes."

"Well, it feels like two hours. Can't we go now?"

"Look, Tomeo." The East African straightened herself up. "I rarely have the time to ever come out here, so I want to make the most of it. It would help if you would hold this book for me."

The male cadet begrudgingly held out his hands to accept it. When given it to him, he moaned, "Why did you get such a heavy book? Doesn't the store carry this in paperback?"

"It's a birthday present. It should be special."

"For who?"

"Kirk."

"Kirk? After 10 hours of grueling military maneuvers, we came all the way out here to get a birthday present for _that guy_?"

"Look, Tomeo, I told I could just meet you at Connie's Café later tonight. You're the one who said you wanted to spend the rest of the day with me. Well, _this_ is part of that day." She moved up into his face with hands on hips. "Like or don't like it, Mister, but stop your bitching!"

Moments passed before Tomeo finally broke the silence. "All right. I'll stop bitching." Uhura backed off of him. "But _I don't like it."_

The East African rolled her eyes and resumed looking in the bin. Suddenly, something caught her eye. She fished out a slender volume from among the other books and held it in her hands.

"Did you _finally_ find something?" He asked.

"Maybe." She opened it.

"What is it?"

"A first edition of poetry written by T'Plau M'Kloek."

"Who?"

"T'Plau M'Kloek . . . one of the greatest writers of all-time. Look." She tipped the book toward him. "She's signed it. There's no way this should be in the bargain bin." Uhura turned the pages.

"What kind of language is that?"

"It's Vulcan. Why don't you know that? I thought you and I were in the same field of study."

"Of course, I can see now that it's written in the Vulcan language. I would have recognized it earlier if you would have held the book better so I could see it." She rolled her eyes, again, and moved the book closer to him.

Looking more closely at the text, Tomeo commented, "I find the language to be extremely difficult. It's so . . . _alien._"

Uhura resisted the overwhelming urge to roll her eyes once more. "I'm much better with the language now than I was a year ago when I took Dr. Greeley's introductory course on Vulcan culture. I've been practicing with language disks almost every day since then to improve my command of Vulcan. "

"So, what does this book have to do with anything?"

"Mr. Spock came to class one day at Dr. Greely's request to talk about his home planet. For some reason that is beyond me, he was so impressed by Cadet Mendez' interest in M'Kloek, that he sent him a signed copy of one of her volumes of poems. This has to be the same book."

Uhura had not seen Spock since she came to his office earlier in the semester. She thought she was _over him_, although she was not sure whether that was actually a fact or wishful thinking. True, she dated freely now, going out as her studies permitted 2-3 times a week. She had been seen enjoying kisses with her suitors, but rarely going out with anyone more than once. The East African could always be found back in her room at a _respectable _time preparing for courses or studying alien languages. She dismissed notions that thoughts of Mr. Spock had interfered in her willingness to take any of these fledgling relationships to the next level. She reasoned, _They just aren't my type._

However, the return of the red scarf did perplex her. She had lost the article the day she spent with Spock's mother. When the Vulcan did not try to contact her during the first part of the semester, the missing scarf became a convenient excuse for her to visit him to inquire about it. Looking back on the matter, she realized she never specifically asked him if he possessed the scarf. Yet, by her visit he knew she wanted it, so . . . _Why didn't he admit he had it? Why had he kept it so long? Why did he finally return it?_

Seeing Uhura seemingly deep in thought, Tomeo interrupted her reflection by asking, "Can we go, now?"

The female cadet readied her sharp tongue for more retorts, when she became self-conscious of the fact how tightly she held the volume of poems to her breasts. Suddenly embarrassed, the book fell to the floor after being released from her grasp.

Tomeo reluctantly stooped to retrieve the fallen object and threw it back into the bin. "Let's go, Uhura. You know you ought to be a little more cooperative. After all, _you do owe me."_ He whined.

Obstructed by book displays and passing patrons, Spock watched the two cadets too far away even for a Vulcan to hear their conversation. For some reason unbeknownst to him, Spock appeared satisfied the relationship between the two appeared strained. There had been other times that semester Spock saw her in the company of other male companions. He recalled with some she even displayed behavior indicative of sexual interest, but nothing more demonstrative than kissing. The Vulcan felt at least she wisely had not exhibited any other signs of blatant sexual behavior in public. Yet, this observation was tempered by the thought, _Behind closed doors may be a different matter. _He did not care to give much thought to that prospect.

Spock was sure Uhura was unaware of those instances of _accidental voyeurism_. Usually, when it happened, he did not linger long_. _However, this time he did not want her to leave his sight. With the return of her scarf, she must have know he had possessed it. . . _Was that not sign of his interest? Why did she not come back to his office to ask about it? _

Spock believed he could, _perhaps_, understand her previous attraction to Dr. McCoy – an older man of wit, intellect and distinguished accomplishments. However . . . _Why would she waste her time with . . . boys?_

From his angle, he could not identify the book Uhura had held against her body. He decided he would certainly check on it once she and her _acquaintance _moved away from the bin. But then, Spock witnessed Uhura unexpectedly retrieve the volume. While it did not matter that her action seemed to displease her _companion_, it strangely saddened him he would now not be able to identify the object of her attention.

"Mr. Spock . . . Mr. Spock." Jack called to him.

The Vulcan dutifully turned his attention to the boy. "Did you make a choice?"

"It was hard to decide, especially between _Lord of the Rings_ and the Tom Sawyer book. But, I chose _The Adventures of Tom Sawyer_."

"That is a fine decision. I am sure your father will be pleased. Shall we find a sales associate to make the necessary transaction?"

"Yeah, Mr. Spock. I'm ready."

As they started to move toward the checkout, Spock noted Uhura had completed her purchase and placed the books in a large purse she placed across her shoulder. She headed quickly toward the exit with the disagreeable male cadet in tow.

The Vulcan looked after them, puzzled as to why Uhura would _waste her time in the company of one so ill-suited for her. Why him and not –_

"Mr. Spock." Jack interrupted his thoughts. "On second thought, I think I would rather buy _Lord of the Rings._ Do you mind waiting here, while I go back and get it?"

In a crowded and noisy pub, Kirk shared a table with McCoy and medical technician Theresa Binkowski. Four large glasses with various amounts of beer in them sit on the tabletop.

Uhura entered the pub with her purse. Kirk called her over to his table.

"Hey, what took you so long? Didn't you get my message as to where you could find us?" Kirk asked.

Uhura could tell Kirk had a buzz, but he was still quite lucid. "I had some garbage to deal with."

"Was the trash your latest boy-toy." McCoy snickered.

"Leonard, my dates have not been boy-toys, thank you. Most have actually passed themselves off as men, that is, with the exception of the one, today."

"Who was it?" Kirk asked, but the East African shook her head.

"I know who she was with. I saw her leave with him after we finished maneuvers this afternoon." Theresa offered. "It was Tomeo Shigeta."

Uhura's hands covered her face in a futile attempt to shield herself from embarrassment.

"What?" Kirk exclaimed over McCoy's laughter. "Just what are you trying to prove by going out with that little weasel?"

Taking her hands from her face, she confessed. "Guilt . . . it was guilt!"

"Details, please." Theresa urged her.

"Yeah." Kirk added. "I can't wait to hear what drove you to _that guy_."

"When we were first year Academy students –"

"First year Academy students?" Kirk interrupted. "You were motivated by guilt that occurred over a year ago?"

"Come on, Jim. Let the girl tell her story." McCoy scolded.

"I first saw Tomeo in one of our core xenolinguistic courses and at the time was eager to get to know all of other graduate students in my discipline. The night before I read the profiles of my classmates and remembered one was born and raised in Japan. So, when I saw him I started speaking Japanese in an attempt to practice the language with a native speaker." Uhura buried her face into her hands, again, while her tablemates looked confused.

"So, what's wrong with that?" Theresa asked.

"Tomeo is of Japanese descent, but his first language is Spanish. He's a native of Peru! He went on and on about how his Asian ancestors had been in South America for centuries and considered themselves proud culture bearers of the Peruvian civilization."

Amused, McCoy commented. "So, it wasn't exactly a PC moment for you."

"You got that right. And then, to make me feel even more humiliated, he begins lecturing me about stereotypes and saying that I of all people should know better."

"Now, that was unfair." Theresa said in an attempt to come to her aid. "He shouldn't assume you aren't as ignorant as everyone else!"

McCoy tapped Theresa's shoulder to draw her attention. "I don't think that sentiment is going to make her feel any better."

"So, I apologized." Uhura continued, but after all this time he never let me forget it. So, when word got out I was dating, again, he asked me out."

"Why didn't you _just say no?_" Kirk asked.

"Guilt!"

"Yeah, weren't you listening, Jim?" McCoy chimed in.

"And, I thought if I could tolerate it, the date would once and for all settle the score."

"All right, so you dumped him. Case closed." Kirk told her.

"Well, actually, Tomeo _dumped_ _me."_ She said feigning hurt. "I don't know how I can possibly get over losing him, but – " She declared happily in a loud voice, "The chains of guilt have been broken and this year-long nightmare with Tomeo is finally over!"

Uhura and her tablemates began to joyfully shout, just as a tall, shapely redhead with a revealing top and mini skirt came before the foursome. From her facial expression, one could tell she was not at all pleased.

"What's _this_?" She asked tersely, obviously referring to Uhura.

"Where've you been?" Kirk replied coolly. "Thought you might have fallen in."

"Who's that in _my_ seat?" She demanded.

Realizing, Uhura started to rise, but Kirk's firm hand on her shoulder prevented her from doing so. "There are other chairs in this place . . . Go find one."

"Jimmy." The woman bent over the table leaving very little to the imagination regarding the fullness of breasts. "If you still are interested in birthday present, you better be ready to come home with me in _five minutes_." She picked up her beer glass, seemingly examining it for any lip marks left by someone other than herself. Then she claimed a nearby table left by departing patrons.

All four of them were well aware of being watched be the seething woman. Finally, after a few awkward moments, McCoy spoke first. "Well, I promised Theresa I'd take her by the Medical Treatment Facility and show off some new equipment we just got in."

"Qtips!" She quipped. "Yeah, supposedly they're softer than ever before." McCoy gave Theresa an incredulous look as the couple rose to leave.

Kirk asked, "You're not letting her drive you off, are you?"

"Just trying to give some time for other matters. Good night, Uhura."

"Good night, Leonard . . . Theresa, don't get too carried away with those new Qtips."

"Oh, right . . . yeah." The woman responded.

Before walking out, McCoy unbuttoned the top four buttons of his shirt and bent over the table toward Kirk. In a seductive, but mocking voice he told him, "Happy Birthday, _Jimmy._"

Uhura bit her lip so not to laugh, while Kirk rated the exhibition with a thumbs down.

"Critics." McCoy sneered playfully, as he took Theresa by the waist and headed out the door.

Uhura picked up her bag from the floor and placed in on the table. "I should leave soon, too. I'm sure your time is almost up."

"Stay as long as you want. She'll wait."

Uhura glanced toward the woman whose expression made no secret of her continued displeasure.

"You might want to reassess that opinion. She's really seems pissed off to me."

"She'll wait." Kirk said firmly.

"All right." She reached her hand into her bag. "I got you something for your birthday. Probably doesn't compare to what _she_ has planned for you, but here it is anyways." She pulled the heavy book from her bag and placed it before him.

Kirk's face brightened upon its sight. "James Joyce's _Ulysses_. How did you know it's one of my favorite novels? Is it your favorite, too?" He immediately began to leaf through the book.

"Not hardly. I nearly got my only "C" as an undergraduate, because I had such a difficult time getting through the excerpts we were required to read from this book."

"Excerpts, but not the entire book? It's one of the greatest English language novels of the 20th century.""

"It's 1,700 pages of text filled with disillusionment, despair and incomprehensible interior monologues. I couldn't get into it, but I know sometimes it takes genius to recognize genius. So, when I saw it at the bookstore, I thought you would be one of the few people I know who would fully appreciate it."

Besides Uhura and McCoy, not many other students recognized Kirk's intellect. Despite his seemingly schizophrenic life as a "bad boy," "lothario," and "class clown," the Iowan possessed a voracious appetite for learning and could retain and apply this knowledge in ways that amazed even his most ardent detractors. There was truly something _special_ about James T. Kirk.

The woman slammed down her now empty beer glass against the table, but held on to it tightly.

Uhura rose from her seat, putting her purse over her shoulder. Kirk got up quickly and asked, "Hey, where are you going?"

"I don't know if you noticed, but that woman's hand is getting awfully friendly with her glass. And I got a feeling that glass is going to come flying over here at any moment and I don't want to be in the way of you being hit by it." Uhura headed toward the door, but Kirk caught her arm and turned her back to him.

"Don't go." He told her.

Uhura saw the woman pull back her arm ready it to hurl it toward them. She shouted, "Incoming!"

Kirk turned quickly and caught the glass just as it almost slammed against his head. "She'll behave."

Uhura saw the now standing woman grasping the sides of a chair. "I think I see my cue to exit." The East African moved quickly out of the pub and heard a large crashing sound just as the door closed. Startled, she turned back to the door and is surprised to find Kirk had followed her outside.

"Don't you think you better tend to your friend?" She advised.

"I asked you not to go."

"No, you _told me_ not to go. There's a difference. And with all that craziness going on inside there, do you really think it would be a good idea for me to go back in there with you?"

"Who are you running off to see, tonight?"

"If it's any of your business, I'm running off to see my bed."

"Then, who's on your dance card for next week?"

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Since when did you become my keeper?"

"Who's next, Uhura?"

She throws up her hands and began walking away.

"Do you know the one who cracks your ass first gets a chance at winning of pot worth over 500 credits?"

The words were crude, but got her attention. Disbelieving, she turned back to him. "What are you talking about?"

"I just found out about this scheme, today, talking to the guys in my squad while we were on maneuvers. Apparently, some of your former suitors started to compare notes and came to realize you've not put out for any of them. A not so scientific poll was taken which came to the conclusion you had not even let anyone get past first base. So, they decided to start a pot to see who would be the first one to break your cherry."

The revelation angered her. "How long has this been going on?"

"From what I can gather, this game started over a month ago. No offense, but that's probably one reason why you've been getting so much attention."

"That certainly explains Tomeo's sudden interest."

"You've been lucky you've been able to handle these guys up until now. But, with the stakes so high, the smart thing to do is to end it all now by refusing to participate in this competition. It's a dangerous game, Uhura. You don't know how far someone will go to claim this prize and they won't care who they hurt in the process."

Moments passed before she spoke. "I need to teach those guys a lesson."

"Right, you teach them a lesson by putting an end to this shit."

"I've only accepted three more dates before the end of the semester."

"Well, that'll be three more disappointed guys."

"Especially after they learn women control their own bodies. It's our choice, not theirs."

"Wait a minute. You're not talking about going out with those guys, are you? Not after hearing about their motive?"

"You've already admitted I've been able to handle the situation without even knowing what they were up to. Now I know exactly how to play the game."

"Come on, Uhura, you're better than that. Why do you want to get yourself caught up in that shit?"

"James, I'm already in it and I know what I've got to do."

"I'm not going to let you."

After hearing about this testosterone driven scheme, the last thing she was going to do was to listen to _another man tell her what to do. _"You're not going to let me do _what?_" When Kirk could voice no retort, she added coolly. "Thanks for the information, but _I got this_. So, why don't you settle down and go back inside and take care of your own little problem, OK?"

Uhura did not wait to give him a chance to discuss the matter further. Still seething under a detached veneer, she walked away leaving Kirk alone outside the pub watching her until she was out of his sight.

Under his breath, he cursed himself saying, "You fucked that one up, Kirk. You fucked that one up real good."

Spock had been with T'Lau that night.

After taking Jack home, he shared supper with the boy and Captain Pike. Gratefully, the boy monopolized most of the conversation as he excitedly retold the section of the book he had a chance to read on their return by SkyBus. While Jack spoke, Spock's mind revisited thoughts of Uhura. He wondered, _Was she still with him_?

Pike invited his Vulcan friend to join him and Jack in a game of _MLB2K256_. However, Spock refused acutely aware he had a hunger for something that could not be satisfied by such a diversion.

He knew T'Lau was in San Francisco and he needed to be with her.

As one of the Project Managers for the building of the first Constellation class Starship Enterprise, the Vulcan administrator traveled to Starfleet headquarters in the city on a regular basis. While there, either she or Spock had the option to exercise a mutual agreement they had made to satisfy biological sexual needs.

Their rendezvous always took place at her apartment on the outskirts of the city where there would be little chance for someone from Starfleet to notice Spock's visits. When together for those purposes, the two exchanged few words. There was no foreplay to heighten arousal or pillow talk to luxuriate in the remnants of the sexual act. They simply assumed the same positions they found gave the most effective results. After completing the performance, Spock showered alone carefully removing all traces of her.

As an end result, there was effective and immediate carnal gratification with none of the emotional baggage.

No expressions of affection. No good-bye kisses. No love to be shared. No promises of _next time._

His needs had been dutifully met, but still he was not satisfied.

The SkyCab returned Spock to campus a little after midnight. Passing through the security check, he decided to take a walk through the campus grounds to help him clear his mind of the day before going to bed. Moving at an average gait he soon found himself standing near the graduate student dorms, cloaked by night. However, not even he could convince himself this was a mere coincidence.

He wanted to see her. He wanted to see Nyota.

Realizing the improbability of his desire at that hour of the evening, he turned to begin his route to his apartment. His eyes suddenly became aware of a solitary figure sitting on a bench, illuminated by one of the lights that dotted the grounds.

_Nyota . . ._

For the second time in one day, he would take on the role of a voyeur. Spock understood his behavior not to be appropriate. Yet, although cognizant of that fact, the Vulcan could not will himself to move from her sight.

Uhura wanted to put Kirk's news out of her mind. She planned to go to her room and listen to some music, since that remedy had always worked in the past to calm her down. However, when she entered the dorm, a staff member behind the reception desk called to her.

"Hey, Uhura. Gaila wanted me to give you a message. She said, 'Don't forget.' She told me you would know what that meant."

Uhura _did_ forget, until given the reminder. She had promised her roommate she could _entertain_ a guest until 1 AM that evening. With only a few exceptions, Gaila had been conscientious about not bringing men to the room for sex, since Uhura felt it unfair to be inconvenienced for the Orion's pleasure. The East African told her, "Why don't you and your partner just put your credits together and get a room somewhere?" However, to achieve a lasting agreement, Uhura allowed her roommate the privacy she wanted from time to time as long as these were planned, not spontaneous activities.

Uhura did not want to wait in the lounge, because that was usually an invitation for some other resident to think she was free to talk. That was definitely not the case. Not tonight.

The cadet walked back outside into above average night temperatures for an April evening in San Francisco. As she sat on a nearby bench, Uhura could not prevent her thoughts from readdressing the revelations of the evening. Although it bruised her ego, Uhura had to admit the number of suitors she had over the semester had surprised even her. While she knew some men found her attractive, others seemed put off by her career-minded focus even though having such a drive was quite acceptable and expected for her male peers at the Academy. If her suitors could tolerate her ambition, then they usually lost interest upon learning of her devotion to her Christian faith.

Still, in the East African's mind these men had no right to use her sexuality as an object for sport. Therefore, Uhura decided she had to beat them at their own game. After she did so, she would claim the pot of credits for herself unless they dared being reported for violating the Academy's sexual harassment policy. Some may consider such a demand as blackmail, but to Uhura _how could this be anything other than just desserts?_

Having resolved her plan of action, she now wondered what she would do in lieu of not having access to her music. Then, she remembered . . . _The volume of T'Plau M'Kloek's poems is still in my bag._

She removed the book, opened it to the first page and began to read. Initially, she found it difficult to find the rhythm of the Vulcan verse. Then she decided to speak the words aloud.

Uhura found her tongue heavy and tripping awkwardly over several words in the first stanza. However, as she continued to read, she gained confidence and fluidity.

By the second poem, the lyricism became nested in her speech.

By the third, the joy of the words entered her soul.

She became one with the spirit of the melody of the words . . .

Words of the mind . . .

Words of the heart . . .

Words of life . . .

These words stirred something within her . . .

Until there was no way to express it . . .

But to exclaim . . .

YES!

I am . . .

YES!

I feel . . .

YES!

I live . . .

Although hidden in the darkness, Spock was near enough to see . . .

Her face aglow with the light that emanated from the truth of the words . . .

Her delight in experiencing the essence of feeling . . .

_Touch . . . _

_This creature of the Terran world . . ._

_Touch . . ._

_It was she who pleased him . . ._

_Touch . . ._

_It was she who moved him . . ._

_Touch . . ._

_It was she who gave life new meaning . . ._

_YES!_

_I love her . . ._

_YES!_

_I love Nyota._

_YES!_

_I love you, Nyota._

At 1:03 AM, Uhura careful placed the book back into her bag and rose from the bench. Feeling so relaxed . . . so warm . . . so safe . . . she knew she would sleep well tonight.

She would not be the only one.

His eyes stayed with her until she entered the building. Then, the Vulcan resumed his walk home, but did not do so alone.

After he completed his nightly rituals and lay down upon his bed . . . Eyes now closed, he settled in . . . waiting . . .

The East African . . .

She came to him . . .

She did not disappoint . . .

And after he felt her _touch_, he drifted off to sleep.

**Author's Notes: **

*The incident in which Spock visited Dr. Greeley's class is depicted in Chapter 5.

The next chapter in this episode will appear over the holidays. And for my readers who have been anxious about the "long awaited first kiss," I promise it will occur by Christmas after dealing with a few more "bumps in the road." I'll do my best not to disappoint. Thanks for staying with it.

Your comments are always welcome.


	34. Chapter 34 You Can't Take What is Mine!

**Author's Note:** Chapter 34 is the continuation of a storyline that began with Chapter 28. Warning – This chapter deals with adult sexual themes; however, the text is not so graphic as to warrant a "M" rating. Occurring during Uhura's second year as a Starfleet cadet, this chapter involves Uhura, Spock, Kirk, McCoy, Gaila, Pike and Cadet Henri Leveque.

Your comments are always welcome.

In the cafeteria with tray in hand, Leonard McCoy found Uhura and Gaila engaged in conversation at one of the tables.

"Hey, girls, do you mind if I join you?"

"Maybe Uhura has the time, but I better run to get to my class on Parallel and Distributed Computing." Gaila told him as she rose from her seat. "By the way, Len, are you coming to the victory party I'm throwing for Uhura, tonight? We'll be at Schmaltz's Karoke Bar for karoke and good times."

"Sorry, but I'm on duty." McCoy answered as he sat down at the table.

"Your loss. I invited Kirk, too, but I'd be surprised if you showed up. You know how men think they always have to be right."

"I don't think I heard that one before. Why don't you tell me all about it?" The doctor retorted with a sarcastic edge.

Gaila ignored his response. "See you, tonight, Uhura. I can't wait to hear all the details."

"See, ya, roommate." Uhura told her as the Orion departed.

McCoy looked to Uhura who appeared quite pleased with herself as she finished off the last of her sandwich.

"Isn't it too early for party plans? I understand you still have one more challenger."

"Yes - with Henri Leveque. We're meeting at Carmen's."

"The ice cream shop?"

"Yes. He asked me where I wanted to go and I told him I had a craving for sweets. I'm going to have a root beer and a tin roof sundae with extra peanuts, pineapple and slices of banana. We'll talk for a while and then it will be over except for the celebrating." Uhura snapped her fingers and moved her body to imaginary music until McCoy spoke, again.

"Well, I must admit, you've handled a bad situation well since you've found out about it. I heard with the last two you took one to a Bible study meeting and another to a showing of the classic film, _The Color Purple_."

Uhura laughed thinking about it. "Neither one had sex on their minds after those experiences."

"I can imagine not."

"That'll teach all involved they can't use a woman's sexuality for their amusement. I was furious when I found out they were betting on whether one of them could have sex with me. However, now I can't wait to collect the prize money. I hear it's now nearly doubled to 1,000 credits."

"Yeah, that's what I've been told."

"I'm going to donate it all to the Heidegger Syndrome Research Center. At least, some good may come out it knowing those credits will go to a worthy cause that may one day help Moretti's little girl.1"

"Right." McCoy tersely responded.

"From your tone of your voice, it doesn't seem like you actually mean what you say."

"I just don't understand why you just can't stop the game now, Uhura. You've proven your point and I don't think anyone dare deny you the pot if you made a claim for it."

"Now, you're sounding like Kirk. And Jordan gave me an earful the other day. Why don't you understand there are men on this campus who don't think like you?"

"Well, I know this may be hard to believe since you're in the middle of this, but the majority of the men at the Academy don't condone this type of behavior."

"You'll have to introduce them to me one day, Leonard, because I guess I must be dealing with all of the shitheads who need to be taught a lesson."

"Seems like you've already proven what type of woman you are. Or, are you actually trying to prove something to yourself?"

"I don't remember requesting counseling services, _doctor_." His words had offended her. Uhura did not know a single woman who did not want to see her take this to the very end. She thought, _Why couldn't her male friends feel the same way?_

"Damn it, Uhura, can't you see I care about you."

"Then stop treating me like a child who can't handle her own business." She responded sharply. Rising from her seat, Uhura took up her tray. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Leonard. I'm not going to stay around her and let you try to take away my joy."

McCoy watched Uhura leave him. Confident of her level-headedness, the doctor was not afraid for her safety. However, he did not understand her insistence on continued participation in such a corrupt game. _Oh, well. _He reasoned, _At least, it will all be over tonight and things can get back to normal._

It had been over a year since his last visit, but Spock found himself back at Schmaltz's Karoke Bar. Again, Captain Pike's monthly get-together for officers served as the reason for the occasion. The activity allowed a way for the officers who had served with him to maintain the camaraderie they had built during their starship service. As usual no spouses or partners were allowed and, if necessary, childcare arrangements had to be made to last well into the night. With their tables perched on a side platform six feet above the main floor, the position afforded a vantage as well as separation from the cadets who usually frequented the place in great numbers.

Unlike other times, the Vulcan actually looked forward to this evening, once he learned of the location. Although Spock detested karoke as a so-called form of entertainment, during his last visit Nyota had performed there and he even had the occasion to engage in banter with her outside of the restrooms.2 Memories of this and other opportunities for verbal jousting with this woman reminded him of how much _he missed her._

Two weeks. Two full weeks passed since he last saw her outside of the graduate women's dorm. With Nyota unaware of his presence hidden in the darkness of the night, he listened to her recite passages from a volume of poems he once owned by Vulcan author T'Plau M'Kloek. Her enunciation of the Vulcan language had vastly improved, since he last heard her attempt to speak it. She must have spent much time honing her skills to the point that only a native Vulcan speaker could detect the minor errors in her speech. This pleased him. _Perhaps_, he thought, _I should, again, offer to serve as her tutor of the language.__3__ Surely, she would respond in the affirmative this time._

As he sat in his usual position next to his Captain, Spock's thoughts of Nyota were soon interrupted by one of the officers noting the beverages the waitress served to the pair.

"What's this, Chris?" Svein Johansen commented. "Are you starting to turn green on us?"

Pike decided to bite. "How so, Svein?"

"You've taken to drinking that Vulcan shit."

"It is pomegranate with a twist of lime." Spock commented drily. "Vulcan _shit_, as you call it, usually has bluish tint due to the types of foods we eat and the way our bodies process waste matter. If the occasion arises later this evening, I would be delighted to show you a sample." The others howled at Spock's rejoinder.

Pike smiled wondering when Svein and severalof the others would learn they were no match for his friend's sharp tongue. Still, the Captain decided to respond to his original query, speaking loud enough to be heard above the din of the establishment.

"I'm Acting Commandant of the Academy, while Vermeersch is attending a conference in D.C. for a week. I've got to keep my head clear under the circumstances, especially on a Saturday night when anything can happen."

The comment started a round of stories on wild nights as cadets that contained so many embellishments, it would be difficult to separate fact from fiction. However, Spock came to understand that at these occasions, most humans held the following maxim dear – _Do not let the truth get in the way of a good story._

With the Captain holding court, Spock took the time to scan the floor below for Uhura. However, his efforts were in vain. Little did he know, others were also anxiously awaiting her arrival.

Dressed in civilian clothes, several tables of women enjoyed drinks while waiting for Uhura to join them. Among them sat Gaila, to whom Kirk came upon entering the bar.

"I'm surprised you decided to make an appearance. What finally convinced you to be on Uhura's side?"

Kirk chose not to address the Orion's comment. He thought, _How could she possibly question my support for Uhura? _While he did not agree with her decision to participate in this farce, it would not affect their relationship. That is one thing he would not allow.

"So, where's the woman of the hour?" The Iowan asked.

"She hasn't arrived, yet. But, I'm sure she'll be here soon."

"I thought she would have disposed of the last challenger by now. I guess Uhura decided to get her fill. She's certainly entitled." Other women at the table heartily agreed with her.

Cadet Bahari offered. "Maybe she spilled some fudge on her shirt and went back to her room to change."

"Gaila, did you try calling her?" A concerned Kirk asked.

"I tried a few minutes ago, but she didn't pick up." Gaila commented.

"Who's at the reception desk at your dorm? Try giving her a call."

"I think Lindsey is on duty tonight." Gaila remarked as she placed the call.

"Graduate Women's Housing. Lindsey, here." They heard a voice speak.

"Lindsey, it's Gaila. Did you see my roommate come past your desk tonight?"

"Yeah, she was with Henri Leveque. But, she didn't look too good."

"What do you mean by that?" The Orion inquired.

"She was leaning heavily on him when she came in. He said he would take care of her until you got back to the room. He told me he was going to call you."

Alarmed, Gaila rose out of her seat. "Lindsey, you've got to call security."

"What for? I just can't contact security for no reason . . . Now, I have another call to take so if you don't have anything else, I've got to let you go." She ended the call.

"Damn it!"

"Don't upset yourself, Gaila." Cadet Donaldson advised. "Maybe she finally did succumb to the last one."

"No, not Uhura. You don't know her like I do." She turned her head, but did not see the person she wanted. "Where's Kirk?"

"He gone already." Bahari told her. He rushed out the moment Lindsey said Uhura didn't look well." Hearing this, Gaila grabbed her purse and hurried out the door.

Within the clouded state of her mind, Uhura fought to distinguish reality and fantasy.

The last clear memory she had took place at Carmen's Ice Cream Shop, located nearby campus. She remembered going there with Cadet Henri Leveque, with whom she had little previous contact. Together, they had been in a few of the courses common for all cadets, but in the past she never carried on more than superficial conversations with the 29-year old studying engineering.

Still, his initial treatment of her during their outing began with a chivalry reminiscent of a long ago era. He opened the shop door and waited for her to enter before him. When inside, he told her he would order at the counter and invited her to sit while he did so. When she accepted his offer, he pulled out a chair for her and assisted her in moving it closer to the table when she sat down. Dressed in a simple skirt with matching top and a light jacket, Uhura placed her small purse on the table as she watched him approach the counter.

She thought, _At least, he gets an'A' for effort._

As she waited for his return, her mind wandered to other matters. She thought she may have been too hard on McCoy earlier that day. Even though he disagreed with her decision to play along in the game, she knew the doctor – like Kirk and Jordan – was only trying to look out after her best interests. She decided, _After tonight, I'll need to find a way to let them know how_ _much I appreciate their concern for me._

Uhura looked forward to the next couple of weeks. With only one more week of classes before finals, she knew if she performed as well as she expected then Dr. Greeley would chose her to serve as her assistant. A position like that would ordinarily provide opportunities for meaningful research in her field as source material for scholarly papers and presentations at academic conferences. After taking a series of mini-courses and training on a Starship during the summer, the East African knew her upcoming third year at the Academy would bring her closer to achieving her educational and career goals.

And then, there was a certain Vulcan who continued to enter her thoughts from time. With the exception of her ill-fated visit to his office that semester, Mr. Spock had remained out of sight, but not out of mind. Reminders of him seemed to lay in wait throughout her day whenever someone unknowingly took on traits she associated with him_ . . . the cock of the head . . . a raised eyebrow . . . hands clasped behind the back _. . . _an intense stare_.

Then, there were the things he had touched, that were now in her possession. Each time she wore the red scarf as part of her Academy Ambassadors uniform, she fantasized his hand around her neck gently touching her _there_. The volume of Vulcan poetry that once belonged to Spock now had a place with her treasured possessions. And when she thought of the evening she had spent reading these lyrical delights outside her dorm - for some reason she could not understand - she imagined he had been nearby her also enjoying the experience.

However, there was one aspect of her phantom relationship with the Vulcan that distressed her. In the evening while she lay in her bed, there were a few times he came to her thoughts but did not provide the usual nightly comfort. She felt him _touch her_ in ways that caused her to feel . . . _sensitive . . . aroused . . . naughty . . . carnal. _And it did not stop there.

Those few times she felt _this way_, she found herself _touching . . . squeezing . . . stoking herself_ . . . _there _. . . _and there_ _. . . and, oh, yes . . . there._

Intellectually, Uhura knew she should not feel guilty about these experiences . . . _but she did_. It gave her relief and – if she could be honest – genuine pleasure. But, it also made her feel _dirty . . . lustful. _She thought, _Wasn't that a sin? _Uhura wanted to talk about it to someone, but she felt too embarrassed to do so – even with the _precious ones._ She was sure Gaila would laugh at her and she certainly could not talk about it with any of her male friends. _How could they possibly understand? Sexually active people didn't indulge in such behaviors, did they?_

With Henri's return to the table with their treats, Uhura gladly focused her attention on much more inconsequential concerns. As they ate their sundaes and sipped root beer through straws, they spoke of the decision to close the pool at the Rec Hall one hour earlier on weeknights and the continued failure of anyone to beat the Kobayashi Maru Scenario.

They then turned their attention to a subject that diminished the effect of Henri's prior gallant display. Their dialogue began with talk about the upcoming summer's six week StarShip training. Since they would not be allowed to send or receive personal transmissions on this mission, Uhura told Henri it would be the longest she would have ever been out of contact with friends and family.

"However," she added, "It'll all be worth it when the day comes when I'm finally a bridge officer."

"You shouldn't set your sights so high." He commented. "There aren't many females in those positions."

"The numbers of women in command positions are improving every year. And, even if they weren't, I wouldn't have any other goal in mind for myself."

"If we were all leaders, who would be left to get the real work done."

"I wasn't speaking for everyone, only for myself. I believe I have a clear sense of my strengths and want to exploit them to their fullest extent. Don't you want the same for yourself?"

"If the economy wasn't down, I tell you I wouldn't be in Starfleet. I had a lot going for me as a civilian, but now with the adoption of open-door hiring policies – it seems all of the few good remaining jobs are going to aliens."

"That's an exaggeration." Strangely, Uhura suddenly began to feel a little drowsy.

"Have you _ever _had a real job, Uhura?"

"That doesn't matter. I know what you say isn't true. While some non-Terrans have gotten a few high profile jobs, you can't make that claim. Lately, there's been plenty of news reports about it which refute such notions." Ironically, Henri made the same argument she heard from her father even when the economy was flourishing.

Uhura took another sip of her soda in an attempt to refresh herself, but it appeared to have no affect.

"Don't believe everything you read, Uhura. Your naiveté about the matter will one day get the best of you. Instead of reaching for heights you'd be better off watching your back for aliens who want to try to change our way of life."

"A wise man once said, 'Fear always springs from ignorance4' and I no longer want to be tainted by your baseless anxieties." Uhura rose to her feet, but found herself leaning against the table to steady herself.

"Are you all right, Uhura?" He asked, seemingly concerned.

_Dear God, _she thought, _What's wrong with me?_

He suggested. "Maybe I should take you back to your dorm."

The East African found it difficult to think clearly. She did not want to leave with Henri, but felt unable to make it back to her dorm room alone. "I should call Gaila."

"That Orion girl is in your room on a Saturday night?" He sounded surprised.

"No . . . no . . . I was supposed to meet her somewhere later."

"So, obviously you didn't think our little rendezvous was going to last very long."

"Think what you want." Uhura felt her legs beneath her and pushed off against the table to right herself. Picking up her purse, she added, "I guess I can call her when I get back to my room. Got to go while I still can."

Somehow, Uhura found the ability walk back to the campus with Henri seemingly playing the role of concerned companion. As she drew closer to her dorm, she felt herself weaken with a dizziness that suddenly overtook her. She unwillingly fell against Henri who brought a strong arm around her waist, holding her upright to keep her moving forward.

Finally, inside the dorm, Uhura recognized Lindsey working the reception desk.

Seeing the pair, the staff person asked, "Is there something wrong, Uhura?"

Uhura attempted to speak, but her tongue now seemed heavy and clumsy within her mouth. "You can help me get her into her room." Henri answered for Uhura. He then added something in a low voice the East African could not comprehend.

To Uhura, Lindsey seemed to respond by shaking her head as though she disapproved of something. She thought she heard her tell Henri, "Sometimes, even the most level-headed ones don't know their own limits."

Lindsey opened the room and stood by the door watching as Henri lay Uhura down on one of the beds. By this time, she felt almost completely helpless as her body seemed not to act as she desired. She thought she could still command some movement, mostly, in her arms. However, as far as she could tell that was minimal. She now wished she would had headed to the Medical Treatment Facility, instead of her dorm.

Henri turned back to the receptionist to say, "You don't have to stay. I'll get her situated and will leave afterwards."

"I don't know about that. I mean – what else do you need to do?"

"I promised Uhura I'd call Gaila and wait until she got back here."

Lindsey hesitated, "I don't know."

"You can't leave the front desk unattended for long, can you?"

"You're going to call Gaila right away?"

"As soon as you leave the room."

Lindsey hesitated, again, and then acquiesced. Uhura heard the door slide shut as she saw Henri tower over her.

Uhura wanted to tell him, _"Don't do this!" _However, she no longer had control of her speech.

It did not matter if he could hear her.

There was no smiling or sneering. No lecherous laugh. This was all business. But even he had to prepare himself for the deed he was about to commit.

Henri removed a pint of whiskey from his inside jacket pocket. After opening it, he brought the bottle to his lips and eagerly swigged half the contents before setting it on the nightstand next to the bed.

He wanted to be numb.

He needed to be numb.

He wanted the liquor to work as fast on him as the drug he put into Uhura's soda had worked on her.

Never had he done something like this before. _Those stupid teenage bitches didn't count._ He reasoned. _Everyone of them wanted it. _ He never had to force any of their legs open.

_Uhura . . . she was different. She thought she was in control. Well, I'm going to teach her who's boss and collect 1,000 credits as a bonus._

Henri caught sight of her pleading eyes.

He was unmoved.

"And after I've done what I've come here to do." He told her coolly. "Don't think you're going to report me to the Commandant's Office. What effect will this have on your career plans if it becomes known you allowed yourself to be caught in such a compromising situation? What authority could you wield from subordinates if it gets out you could be taken so easily?" When she cast her eyes downward, he felt empowered. "I thought you would see it my way."

Uhura's communicator sounded from inside her purse. Henri removed it and checked the caller's identity. "It's your roommate. I'll just turn off your communicator so we won't be disturbed." He does so and placed the device back in her purse. "Now I think it's time to get ready for the main event."

In a deep haze, Uhura struggled to stay in touch with her senses. The smell of alcohol filled her nostrils suggesting its container was not too far from her reach. She heard the rustling of clothing that seemed to have been dropped to the floor.

_Now . . . his cold hands . . . _

_Removing her socks and shoes . . ._

_Now . . . his cold hands_

_Pulling up her skirt to her waist_

_Now . . . his cold hands_

_Pulling down her panties exposing her . . . there . . ._

_Bed sinking down under his weight . . ._

_Straddling her . . ._

_His hand sliding over his . . . making it . . . ready . . ._

_Breath quickening in anticipation for the kill . . ._

_Ready . . ._

_He was ready . . ._

_Bed shifting . . . _

_At her entrance now . . ._

_Ready to take it from her . . . _

_Ready to take it now . . ._

_But she dug down deep within herself . . . _

_And she called on all that was in her . . ._

_And she looked at him directly in his eyes . . ._

_And she screamed from the core of her being . . ._

_YOU WILL NOT TAKE WHAT IS MINE!_

As the officers' gathering broke up at Schmaltz, Pike looked curiously at his Vulcan friend. "Mr. Spock, you surprised me, tonight."

"How so, Captain?"

"It's 1 AM."

Checking his chronometer, Spock reported, "Actually, Captain, it is precisely 12:56 and 23 seconds."

"The exact time is not as important as the reason why you stayed until the end this time."

"The end of what, sir?"

Pike gave his First Officer a "don't give me that shit" look as he started to rephrase his statement. However, the sounding of his communicator interrupted him. Before he answered the incoming call, the Captain told the Vulcan, "Don't you go anywhere. I'm not finished with you."

As Pike took the call, Spock considered the response he would give his Captain to explain why he had not left the officers' gathering after two hours as was his usual practice. He had never before lied to his superior officer and friend, but he could not reveal his true motive. Moreover, Nyota had not shown up to this establishment, after all. And while the odds were certainly not favorable for her to actual appear that specific evening, her absence still disappointed him.

After Pike ended his call, Spock could tell by the stern look on his face the Captain had more important concerns to deal with.

"Spock, I know it's late, but I could use your assistance back on campus."

"Of course, sir."

The two moved to exit the bar. "I have use of the Commandant's car. The driver should already be waiting for us."

"How may I be of service, sir?"

"There's been a sexual assault involving two cadets. Both are at the MTF receiving medical attention. According to policy concerning such matters, I need to take statements with another officer present as close to the time of the event as possible."

Upon entering the car, the driver received his orders and sped away.

"I don't have many details, yet." Pike continued. "Apparently, the assault took place at the graduate women's dorm."

With a disinterested tone, Spock masked the anxiety beneath his question. "Captain, do you have the identities of those involved?"

"Yes. Cadets Henri Leveque and Nyota Uhura."

**Author's Notes: **

Your comments are always welcome.

1 See Chapter 9

2 See Chapter 12

3 In Chapter 6, you learn Spock had sent Uhura an invitation to serve as her tutor in the Vulcan language, during her first year at the Academy. He sent the offer via a note in a sealed envelope he gave to her advisor, Dr. Greeley, to hand to the cadet. However, Dr. Greeley mistakenly assumed the note contained another correction of her student's flawed demonstration of her command of the language. In order to spare Uhura's feelings, she did not pass along the note, but instead kept it in a desk drawer.

4 Quote original stated by Ralph Waldo Emerson.


	35. Chapter 35 I'm Here For You

**Author's Note:** Chapter 35 is the continuation of a storyline that began with Chapter 28. Occurring during Uhura's second year as a Starfleet cadet, this chapter involves Uhura, Spock, Kirk, McCoy, Pike and Cadet Henri Leveque.

Uhura awakened, but did not immediately open her eyes.

She prayed it was only a nightmare.

Disturbed sleep . . . Uhura could deal with that . . . but not . . .

She allowed her eyes to open and what she saw confirm her fears . . . _bandaged hand . . . an IV hooked to her arm . . . clothed in a stiff gown . . . she lay in a bed within a sterile room of the campus Medical Treatment Facility._

_She remembered . . . Oh, God . . . she remembered . . . everything . . . _

Uhura remembered _him_ . . . eating sundaes and drinking sodas at Carmen's ice cream shop . . . feeling disoriented . . . muscles weakening . . . barely able to get back to her dorm room.

_He_ was with her . . . Henri Leveque was with her.

She remembered his _cold hands_ placing her nearly immobile body on one of the beds _ . . . _

_The removal of her clothing . . ._

In her own room . . . on her own bed . . . for a moment in time he made her feel so_ weak . . . helpless . . . exposed . . ._

The smell of liquor as he drank from his bottle . . . the bottle he sat close by on the nightstand where he could reach it . . . and where _she could reach it_

She remembered how he held _his_ . . . over her until he was ready_ . . . _

And when was _ready to take her_, he lowered his body unto hers . . .

_But she refused to give into him_ . . .

Uhura reached back her arm and found the liquor bottle in her hand. And, before he realized what she had . . . with all of her might, the East African slammed the glass container against the side of his head.

With a deep grunt, _he_ fell unconscious on top of her . . .

And as hard as she tried, Uhura could not push Leveque off of her or move from underneath him . . .

_His suffocating smell . . . _

Her hand throbbing from the pain of the broken glass that had cut deep into her . . .

_The blood . . . her blood flowing from her hand . . . _

_His blood . . .dripping from his forehead and onto her body . . . staining her soul . . . _

_Oh, God, she prayed, Not this way . . . please don't leave me this way._

She could feel herself _slipping away_ . . . _losing her grip on reality_ . . .

But not before her prayer was answered . . .

Leveque's body pulled off of her and dropped like a load of trash to the floor . . .

Her wound being tended to . . .

A gentle whisper from a familiar voice . . ."I'm here, Uhura." Jim Kirk told her. "Everything's going to be all right."

Sexual assault cases solely involving Starfleet personnel did not occur often, since all were required to undergo psychological testing and comprehensive background checks. However, _they did happen_. As a man of the 23rd century, Captain Pike found such instances to be deeply disturbing. Upon joining the Academy faculty, he insisted the Cadet Orientation workshops include a thorough review of sexual harassment and misconduct policies.

Upon arriving at the MTF, an aide provided Pike and Spock with iTablets and a recording device. Then, Dr. Leonard McCoy briefed them on the condition of Cadets Uhura and Leveque. They also read the reports of security personnel who carried out the initial investigation on the incident.

According to the security report when comparing their separate interviews, Cadets Uhura and Leveque only agreed on one aspect of their account of evening. Both stated they had been on a date at an ice cream shop and later ended up in Uhura's room. There, she claimed he attempted to rape her and would have succeeded if she had not struck him with a liquor bottle. He claimed the expectation of sex that evening had been consensual. Leveque speculated the blow to the head had been triggered by the amount of liquor Uhura had consumed. When he attempted to take the bottle of whiskey from her, she lost control and assaulted.

McCoy gave the two permission to interview Leveque that evening. However, he asked they delay questioning of Uhura until the morning. Pike agreed upon hearing the doctor's rationale. "She'll be more lucid once we neutralize whatever is in her system."

Although McCoy informed them she was resting, Spock wanted to see her for himself. However, Pike needed him to assist with the investigation. Being with Nyota would need to wait until an opportunity afforded itself.

The impression of Uhura's physical condition when she arrived at the dormitory did not bode well for the Cadet. Lindsey - the dorm receptionist - and eyewitnesses who saw the East African with Leveque gave statements that she appeared drunk and demonstrated no signs of resistance to her partner. When they questioned Leveque, he confirmed his earlier statements and added a twist neither officer expected. He talked of a competition . . . one in which the winner would "bed" Uhura and collect a pot that had grown to nearly 1,000 credits.

"If you are not already aware, Mr. Leveque, this contest was most inappropriate and a violation of the Academy policy of sexual misconduct." Pike sternly commented.

Although one side of his face was bandaged and swollen, Leveque spoke as calmly as if talking about the weather. "Uhura was in on it, sir."

"Ms. Uhura knew about the bet?"

"Yes, sir. She not only was aware of it, but planned to collect the pot at the end."

"How long had this so-called contest been going on?" Pike asked.

"For most of the semester, sir. And, it was my understanding I was the final contestant."

"That's quite a story, Mr. Leveque." Spock interjected. "However, doesn't such knowledge give you the motive to take advantage of Ms. Uhura?"

"Mr. Spock, I've already told you and Captain Pike I never had the need or desire to force a woman into sex. Uhura wanted it. After all, a woman like that going so long without it . . . she was more than ready to get down to business."

"If Ms. Uhura understood you to be the final challenger, then why would she willingly forfeit a sizeable prize you said she had intended to claim by engaging in sex with you?"

"Because I told her I was giving up. She's the one who had picked the location of our date – Carmen's Ice Cream Shop. Just what was going to happen there? So I threw in the towel."

Spock pressed on. "She accepted your word, a man she barely knew?"

Leveque had an answer for everything. He explained how he had written _his surrender_ on a paper napkin, which he was sure she had placed in her purse. He confessed he spiked their drinks at the ice cream shop, but Uhura was aware of this potent additive.

Leveque added, "In hindsight, I probably gave her more than what she needed for her own good. And, for my own good considering the way she cracked opened my head. Women . . . go figure."

Pacing the floor in a bloodstained shirt, Kirk felt like a caged animal. Confined to a small MTF office with security posted outside the door, he anxiously awaited his release.

Upon hearing the door open, Kirk immediately rushed toward it – but a security officer held back the cadet as Captain Pike and Spock entered the room.

Struggling against the much larger officer, Kirk exclaimed, "Captain Pike . . . you've got to let me go!"

In a commanding voice, Pike responded. "Cadet Kirk, you will be able to leave when I say you can leave. Is that understood?"

Kirk broke free of the security officer's hold and angrily replied, "Yes, sir."

Pike dismissed the officer who took a position outside the room, joining another security member. Spock moved to a desk where he placed a device and busied himself with the set up.

"I don't understand why I'm being held here, sir. That bastard is the one who assaulted Uhura."

"It's my understanding you attacked the alleged assailant, here, at the Facility."

"Well, sir, I didn't get a chance to kick the _alleged assailant's_ ass in Uhura's room." He replied in a sarcastic tone. "I was too busy trying to stop her bleeding!"

Spock spoke, but his tone showed no effect of the seriousness of Kirk's last statement. "Captain Pike, the recording instrument is ready. Sound recognition software is operational."

"What's he doing here?" Kirk questioned, as if seeing Spock in the room for the first time.

Pike studied Kirk. He genuinely liked the young man and thought one day he would make an exceptional officer – not unlike Kirk's heroic father. However, he knew the cadet's volatile temper and affronts to faculty members and officers might derail this aspiration if he did not learn how to temper his emotions.

"Mr. Spock is here at my request to assist in taking statements from those involved in this case. As you should know, he is a highly esteemed faculty member and Starfleet officer. You will show him the respect he deserves."

Even Kirk recognized he had overstepped his bounds. Neither of these men were his enemy.

"I'm sorry, sir." Kirk looked to Spock with his apology, but the Vulcan seemed to accept it coolly.

"Have a seat, Cadet." Pike ordered him. This time Kirk did not hesitate to follow his command. The Captain continued. "While Commandant Vermeersch is in Washington, I am serving in his place. Under the circumstances it is my duty to investigate the matter that took place tonight and I need your cooperation to get to the bottom of it."

"Yes, sir." Kirk responded.

"Then we shall begin. The time is 2:36 AM, Stardate 2256.601 "

As prompted, Kirk stated his name and rank. When asked his relationship to Leveque, he stated he had never spoken at length with this cadet. "There was never any reason to do so." He remarked. "Leveque was there, but not there, sir."

"Please avoid colloquial speech." Mr. Spock advised. "Be more exact with your meaning."

"Leveque did not make much of an impression, sir."

"And what of your relationship with Ms. Uhura?" Pike asked.

This time the Iowan hesitated before he gave his answer. "She's a fellow cadet."

Well aware of the near-death experience Kirk shared with Uhura and Moretti,2 Pike knew his answer to be insufficient. "On a more personal level, what is your association with Cadet Uhura?"

The Cadet paused before he replied. "We're friends, sir."

Although masked behind a dispassionate demeanor, Kirk's hesitation before his answer unnerved Spock. "Cadet Kirk, according to a statement you gave to campus security, you were the first to enter Ms. Uhura's dormitory room. You did so without benefit of housing staff opening an ordinarily secured residence space. For someone to do so with such ease, one would assume it was not the first time."

"We're friends, sir." Kirk repeated.

"Please clarify the extent of your relationship."

"It's complicated, sir. And I really don't see how that has anything to do with this incident."

"We are attempting to confirm or disapprove some remarks concerning Cadet Uhura's usual social behavior." Pike commented.

"You've already spoken with that douchebag Leveque, haven't you?"

Spock asked, "Cadet Kirk, did you share intimacies with Ms. Uhura?"

Kirk gave no reply.

"You will respond to our questions, Mr. Kirk. Did you share intimacies with Ms. Uhura?"

In a flash of anger, he retorted. "Why the euphemism from someone expecting precision in speech? What you really want to know is if I've ever fucked her!"

The words coming from the Iowan's mouth affected Spock more than he expected. Cognizant his stiffening hands might give himself away, he clasped them behind his back.

Pike commanded the cadet's attention. "Mr. Kirk, you will answer Mr. Spock's question."

"Yes, sir." Kirk turned back to the Vulcan. "You asked have Uhura and I shared intimacies? Well, there's not a word I know that can describe it." The Iowan suddenly shifted his focus as if recalling something that served to calm him. His voice suddenly softened as he continued. "There's something between us . . . a connection . . . bond . . . link . . . _something_. If you were to measure it by time, we haven't known each other for very long . . . yet . . . _she does know me . . . she knows who I am_."

Spock commented, "As you describe it, this relationship appears a bit unbalanced."

Kirk brought his attention back to Spock. "It's not like that at all, sir. We . . . " He paused.

"Does language fail you, again, Cadet Kirk?"

"Sometimes, there is no adequate way to express emotions."

"Please try." Spock said tersely.

Kirk considered the request and then found an answer he felt most closely described his relationship with Uhura. "We find_ comfort _in one another. Sure, we have our conflicts and disagreements . . . but I will always be there for her. No other option exists."

"Then you have had sexual relations with Cadet Uhura."

Spock's words momentarily silence the cadet, before he added a comment as coolly as if he shared his superior's alien ancestry. "Perhaps, finding comfort with another human being is an experience a Vulcan can never experience."

"Such remarks are inappropriate, Mr. Kirk." Pike warned.

"He does not know her, Captain." Kirk countered. "If he did, he wouldn't even make a statement like that. That's what that damn contest was all about."

"What can you tell us about the contest, Kirk?" Pike asked.

"Uhura hadn't dated anyone at the Academy since the end of our first year. When she started to accept dates again this semester, some of the men began talking and realized she hadn't allowed anyone to get past first base. So, they created a pot to see who would be the first one to get her in the bed."

"Thus far, this story doesn't differ much from Leveque's version. He told us Cadet Uhura was aware of the bet and intended to claim the credits for herself. Do you concur with that account?"

"It's true she knew of the bet and planned to claim the prize."

"I see. Then she was complicit in this affair." Pike concluded.

Kirk rose from his chair. "That's not the entire story, Captain. She only found out about it a week ago after I learned what was going on from some fellow cadets during last Saturday's training exercise."

"The timing of it still does not discredit Leveque's statement. He claimed the sex was consensual."

"Leveque is a liar. He's just trying to twist things around to bring her down with him."

"We'll speak with Cadet Uhura in the morning. If his claims are not factual, she can refute them at that time."

"Then it will be just her word versus his. Sir, if the Academy Board Members are persuaded by his lies, it could mean the end of Uhura's career."

Pike was supposed to be objective in this matter. However, Uhura had impressed him in her handling of the incident with Moretti. He believed the East African had the "right stuff" to one day become a bridge officer. Pike had long contended not enough women rose to this level in the chain of command. He did not want to lose one of their more promising prospects, but there were still some troubling aspects to the ordeal.

The Captain commented, "According to initial reports, no one who saw Ms. Uhura with Cadet Leveque recalled any appearance of trouble or signs of struggle. None of the clothing she or Leveque removed from her body showed any form of distress, such as, a tear or excessive pulling that would have misshapen the article. Her intake exam revealed pre-ejaculatory fluid on her inner thighs, but no marks or bruises on her body caused by Leveque. All of these facts support his claim the sex was consensual."

"Then why would she hit him over the head with the whiskey bottle?"

Spock offered, "Cadet Leveque claimed she became enraged when he told her not to drink any more of the liquor so not to impair sexual performance."

"I don't give a shit what he said, that doesn't sound like Uhura . . . not the woman I know."

"Perhaps, you do not know her as well as you think." Spock commented.

Kirk struggled to keep control for Uhura's sake. "That's not the way she would have wanted it to be. Not the first time."

"Please clarify your statement, Cadet Kirk."

Kirk paused, suddenly realizing something not, yet, voiced. "Captain, what did Leveque tell you was the basis of the contest?"

Pike complied. "The prize would be won by the first man to have sex with Ms. Uhura during Winter semester."

Anger filled the Iowan once more. "That bastard!"

"What is it, Kirk?" Pike asked.

"Don't you see, Captain, for his scenario to appear to have any sort of plausibility Leveque had to imply Uhura was sexually experienced and anxious to break a self-imposed celibacy. I don't know how he thought he could get away with it."

"What are you saying, Kirk?"

The revelation suddenly overcame the Vulcan. Before Kirk could answer, Spock interjected, "She is a virgin, Captain . . . Ms. Uhura is a virgin." He uncharacteristically repeated himself. "The reason why the stakes rose so high was due to knowledge of her chaste state."

McCoy's entrance interrupted their discussion. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Captain. However, the toxicology report on Cadet Uhura came back and I thought you would want to look at this."

Pike accepted McCoy's iTablet and read the screen. "Gamma Hypokalemia."

McCoy explained. "In powdered form, it is colorless, odorless and seemingly has no taste in a beverage. It has many of the same effects as its 21st century date-rape drug cousin, Gamma Hydroxybutyric Acid; however, this one causes a neuromuscular disorder leading to temporary paralysis in the body's extremities."

"Then that explains why he was able to take advantage of her without resistance. But, why was she able to find the muscle control in one of her hands to strike him?" Pike asked.

"The drug behaves erratically in the system. My guess is Uhura realized she had some movement in her right arm and waited for an opportune moment to strike him."

"He would have raped her for sure if she hadn't done so." Kirk commented.

"Worse than that." McCoy added.

"What could be worse than being drugged and forcibly raped?" Pike asked.

"As I told you, the drug works erratically throughout the body attacking muscle tissue. It would have continued to do so until the effects wore off. If Uhura had not been brought to the Medical Treatment Facility in time for us to flush that poison out of her system, it could have attacked her heart muscles causing cardiac arrest."

"In other words, doctor, Leveque could have killed her." The Captain bitterly voiced what they all had come to realize.

5:43 AM Uhura opened her eyes. She found herself in a hospital bed clothed in a hospital gown. Her fears realized.

_It was not a dream._

"Hey." A gentle, familiar voice called to her.

The East African turned her head and saw him . . . Jim Kirk, dressed in an oversize hospital t-shirt and surgical pants.

"You've changed, since I last saw you."

"Yeah. Bones gave me access to a shower and some extra clothes. They don't quite fit, but beggars can't be choosy."

"Thank you."

"What for?"

"Saving my life. Leonard told me if you hadn't come to my room in time – "

"Bones says a lot of things." He interrupted her. "You know how he is. Prone to exaggeration. You're safe now . . . that's all that matters."

Uhura cast her eyes down and nodded.

"And, Gaila's back at your dorm as we speak moving her and your things to a different room on another floor."

"Yes . . . she told me last night she was going to have everything moved before I am released."

Silence. Then, Uhura added. "James, there's something else."

"If it is something that Bones told you, then you can give it a rest."

"No, it's about you. I want to thank you for not saying, 'I told you so.'"

"I wouldn't do that. And, you know you did get the best of that shithead. You cleaned his clock with just one strike."

From her pained expression, Kirk realized his words had offered her no consolation. He quickly voiced an apology.

"I'm sorry, Uhura . . .so stupid . . . how could I be so fuckin' stupid at a time like this?"

"It's not you fault." She told him. "I know where I am . . . I know I'm safe . . . I know Leveque did not finish what he set out to do . . . and - I know he will end up off-planet in a rehabilitation center for a very long time. Yet . . . I feel so _damn vulnerable_."

Kirk tried to assure her. "I'm with you, Uhura. He can't get to you." However, even as he said the words, they felt useless in face of her agony.

"Back at the dorm . . . after I hit him . . . _he fell down on top of me_ . . . _I felt him on top of me . . . James . . . I still feel him on top of me!"_

When Uhura broke and her hot tears poured down her face, it scared him. For a moment he felt himself freeze.

_He didn't know what to do . . . _

Then he took a risk and did the only thing he could do . . .

It was the only _human_ thing he could think to do . . .

He took the nearly hysterical woman in his arms and held her tight against him, "_Feel me, Uhura . . . feel me . . . I'm here for you . . . I'll always be here for you . . . Everything's going to be all right."_

_He_ stood behind the door.

_The Vulcan_ stood behind the hospital room door . . . an inexpensive hospital door that even when closed provided only an illusion of privacy for intimate conversations.

_Spock_ stood behind Uhura's hospital room door looking through the window at the embracing couple.

_Eyes on them_ . . .

_Spock's eyes on Uhura with . . . that man_ . . .

_That man who made his way to her bedside, making sure he was the first person she saw when she woke up . . ._

_That man who never lost faith in the woman he now held in his arms . . ._

_That man who gave her the . . . comfort . . . Spock was unable to give . . ._

_Eyes on them . . ._

_Spock's eyes on them . . . _

_As he held her . . ._

_As he held this woman . . ._

_Spock watched as Kirk held Uhura in his arms . . . until she drifted back to sleep._

**Author's Notes: **

Your comments are always welcome.

1 I have chosen to use the format to calculate Stardates. See "Expressing Contemporary Dates as Stardates," Item #2,

.?zi=1/XJ&zTi=1&sdn=php&cdn=compute&tm=25&f=00&tt=13&bt=1&bts=1&zu=http%

2 See Chapters 9-17


	36. Chapter 36 Christine

**Author's Note:** Chapter 36 is the continuation of a storyline that began with Chapter 28. Occurring during Uhura's second year as a Starfleet cadet, this chapter involves Uhura, Spock, McCoy and Nurse Christine Chapel.

Regarding Nurse Chapel: The author freely admits the only thing her version of the Nurse has in common with the television and film versions is the name and her attraction to Spock. When including her in this story, the writer has kept in mind someone more resembling a mid-30's Helen Mirren, rather than Majel Barrett. Please keep an open mind.

Protected by visors, Spock witnessed a gamma ray experiment conducted by one of his research teams. Upon the conclusion of the trial, the team members applauded elated over the results. However, they took on a more somber look, while waiting anxiously as they watched the Vulcan review the data.

"As you can see, Mr. Spock, we've been able to duplicate these findings over ten times with no major deviations in the results." Team Leader Ensign Peja Slovich contended. "With the right funding from the Federation Science Foundation, we should be able to move into Phase III of the experiment by the fall, sir."

"Any proposal to the Foundation would first require my recommendation, Ensign." Spock replied.

"Yes, of course, sir. But surely there's no question of the experiment's value. The application could mean the most significant breakthrough in irradiation in over two hundred years."

Spock turned directly to the young officer. "Ensign Slovich, you need not lecture me on the potential of this research. However, I assumed you were aware sound scientific inquiry cannot be rushed."

"Of course, sir." The young man knew it would be futile to press the matter. For the sake of the thousands of hours his team had already spent on the project, he needed not to displease the Head of Scientific Research at the Academy.

"I will return to my office for a more detailed review of your data." Now taking in the entire team into his view, the Vulcan noted their concerned faces. "I would not make plans for a celebration, yet; however, I must say the project looks quite promising."

"Thank you, Mr. Spock." Several of the team members stated, while others cautiously allowed smiles to appear.

Spock walked back to his office enjoying the unusually hot San Francisco spring day. Under his leadership, most of the scientific research teams were making extraordinary progress. While overall they still were not on par with the Vulcan Scientific Academy, there were several projects – including the one headed by Slovich – which under any objective standard would be considered second to none. Freed from coursework during the summer term, the immersion into these research endeavors served to challenge and invigorate his intellect. And, this summer these activities also functioned to keep his mind off of _her._

Six weeks had now passed since he stood outside of Uhura's hospital room. _A voyeur_ . . . watching as Cadet James T. Kirk held her in his arms and comforted her . . . a _comfort_ . . . the Vulcan was sure he knew not how to give. No envy or jealousy visited him . . . only a sense of _inadequacy _ . . . an inability to meet her emotional needs . . . needs that were an inherent part of what it meant to be human.

His mother, Amanda, allowed him to make the choice of his identity and Spock made the only one logically possible for someone born and raised on his father's home world . . . _I am Vulcan_. Yet, he saw how this race of people that professed no racial biases would not hesitate to make slights against his mother despite her renowned scholarship and marriage within a prominent Vulcan family. Such affronts to his mother enraged him, still . . . they also served to convince him he could not adopt her ways. To show affection . . . touch . . . comfort . . . these actions portrayed a human weakness he could not emulate and show himself . . . his father . . . his people . . . that he was truly one of _them_.

As Spock approached his office, he recognized a familiar face standing nearby – Dr. Leonard McCoy. In the previous semester, he proved himself a gifted student in the Vulcan's ethics class as the doctor showed himself willing to match wits with his instructor. McCoy's presence reminded Spock the doctor had also served as the attending physician the night of Cadet Leveque's attempted rape of Uhura.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Spock." The doctor greeted him.

"What brings you here, Dr. McCoy?" He asked as they entered his office

"I would appreciate a word with you, sir."

"Unfortunately, your visit is ill-timed. There are a number of matters related to my position which demand my attention."

"It's important, sir."

"While I served as one of your instructors last semester, I am not in the biomedical field. It would probably be more appropriate for you to speak with Dr. Shakir about such matters."

"It's personal, sir."

"Counseling is also not my forte."

"With all due respect, sir, I'm not here to ask your advice. I need a favor from you to benefit someone of mutual interest to the both of us."

"And who may that be, doctor?

"Uhura, sir."

"What gives you the impression she is of mutual interest?"

"I saw you, sir." McCoy stated unwavering in his resolve. "I saw you standing outside her hospital room the night that bastard attacked Uhura."

"Upon Captain Pike's request, I assisted him with the investigation of the incident involving Cadets Leveque and Uhura. When you saw me at her door, I was checking on her condition. After all, her statement was still necessary to complete the report."

"You weren't present when she gave her account later that morning. Lieutenant Rebecca Miller accompanied the Captain."

"After over 12 years amongst humans of both sexes, I have come to learn there are certain matters females would feel more inclined to speak freely about in the presence of another woman. When I expressed this opinion to the Captain, he concurred and the Lieutenant became available for that purpose."

"Come on, Mr. Spock. Maybe that was the line you gave to Captain Pike, but you weren't outside Uhura's room thinking about the optimal conditions for her to provide her testimony. I could sense something else going on there."

"Doctor, I had no knowledge of your Betazoid ancestry. Is being an empath one of your many talents?"

Unintimidated by the Vulcan's rank or the consequences, McCoy closed the gap between the two so they were only inches apart. "Are you going to help her or not?"

When Spock gave no response, McCoy cursed, "Damn it." As he turned and started to move toward the door to exit, he unexpectedly heard his name.

"Doctor, how is she? How has she been since the incident?"

McCoy turned back to him and noted the Vulcan's indifferent face betrayed by the discomfort of his stiff posture and hands clasped behind his back. Such an assessment would have eluded most humans; however, the doctor had studied xenophysiology and xenopsychology including Vulcan biosystems and behavior.

"To most of her friends, she appears back to normal."

"Is not a sense of normalcy a good indicator of her recovery?"

"Most see what they want to see and Uhura's smart enough to give them just enough not to question her state of mind."

"But you seem to think otherwise."

"I am a psychologist as well as a physician and I see the symptoms . . . a lack of appetite, drive, and an inability to focus on anything very long. She gets by. That's all. She just exists."

Spock moved away to his office window. His eyes scanned across campus searching in vain . . . suddenly needing to see her for himself.

"That's not the Uhura I know." McCoy continued. "That girl had a great zeal for life and deep compassion for all who she touched. I want that Uhura to come back to us. The one that monster snatched away."

"It was my understanding a therapy had been recommended for her."

"Since Starfleet privatized the mental health department in an effort to save a few credits, the unit has not been very effective in addressing these concerns. Most of the staff members mean well, but that's not good enough. They're very young, inexperienced and have twice the workload they can handle. I doubt if her therapist could even recall Uhura's name with her file right before her."

Spock turned back to McCoy. "What can I do to be of service?"

"So now you admit you care?"

"As a former student of mine the Cadet showed great promise as a Starfleet officer. If that potential is now in jeopardy of being diminished, then I would be derelict in my duties as an Academy instructor and Starfleet officer not to intervene if in my power to do so."

"Spoken like a true Vulcan." McCoy smirked.

"Thank you." Spock retorted, although aware the doctor did not mean the statement as a compliment. "What can I do to assist Ms. Uhura?"

"Uhura needs an experienced therapist in the field of trauma therapy. The Starfleet Medical Corps allows for consultants with the proper authorization. I believe I can secure that approval. What I need form you is to convince the person I have in mind to take on the case. According to my research, she's one of the best nurse-therapists in the field and the clinic she runs in Boulder, Colorado has had great success with these types of cases. With her background as a former Starfleet Officer, I believe she would be the right candidate for this position."

"Doctor, if you know of this person, then why don't you contact her?"

"I already have and was turned down cold. Apparently, she left the service several years ago in protest over the privatization issue. She used quite colorful language to let me know what I could do with my request. However, sir, you may be able to convince her otherwise, since I believe you know her. From reading her bio, she served with you under Captain Pike's command during your last mission. Her name is Christine Chapel."

_Christine_. Spock had wondered what became of her. They had not been in contact since the day their ship docked after a five-year voyage.

"You do know her, sir, don't you?"

"Yes. I am acquainted with Nurse Chapel."

"Then you will speak with her."

"Nurse Chapel and I did not part on the best of terms."

"Then, you're telling me I've got to go to Plan B – that is, after I figure out what Plan B is."

"Doctor, please refrain from assuming you can read my mind. I am sure your xenological studies were worthwhile, but it is presumptuous for you to believe you are privy to my thoughts unless I explicitly share them with you."

The Vulcan's comments evoked a smile on McCoy's face. "Yes, sir."

"I will secure Nurse Chapel's services, but I must carefully consider my approach. Please excuse me, while I conduct some of my own research on this matter."

"Freedom to speak freely, sir."

His request caused Spock to raise an eyebrow. "If you have not already been doing so, I hesitate to grant that request. However, my curiosity seems to overcome my better judgment."

"I think you're all right, sir."

"I accept your compliment, if that is what you meant to convey." Certain McCoy was headed for the door, Spock sat before his computer console and began to search for information on Christine Chapel.

"One more thing, sir." McCoy surprisingly continued.

Not looking up from his screen, Spock reluctantly replied, "Yes, doctor."

"You should save that bullshit answer for somebody else."

"To which so-called bullshit answer are you referring?"

"You know, the one about doing all this for the good of the service. I remember the man standing outside Uhura's hospital room. And, he wasn't there with Starfleet on his mind."

Spock heard his office door closed and wondered, _How did he know?_

Coming out of her office while reviewing a patient chart on an iTablet, a tall blonde and thirty-something Christine Chapel told her assistant, "I want to switch Ms. Thompson to the 10 AM Thursday group session. Is there an opening at that time?"

"Yes, Nurse Chapel. I'll make the change right away." The woman noticeably lowered her voice. "And one other thing, ma'am, there's a gentleman here to see you."

"Does he have an appointment?"

"No. I told him it was required, but he said he traveled from San Francisco to see you in person."

"Well, I don't care if he traveled all the way from Andoria. He can return when he has followed proper procedures. Handing her iTablet to the woman. "I'm taking my lunch now. I'll be back in time for my -" Christine looked up and saw Spock in the waiting room. Dressed in civilian clothes, the tall Vulcan rose up from his seat as their eyes met.

Christine and Spock walked along the street with no destination in mind. No words exchanged between them until the nurse finally decided to take the first shot.

"You've got a hellava nerve coming to me."

"I am here on a matter of a professional nature."

"I do believe I've heard that line before." She commented with a biting tone.

Choosing to ignore her statement, Spock continued. "It is my understanding Dr. Leonard McCoy of Starfleet Academy contacted you."

"Yes. He told me about a trauma case stemming from an attempted rape."

"You refused to review the case."

"I've been in private practice for over two years. You know I'm no longer associated with Starfleet."

"You were being asked to serve as a consultant."

"What's wrong? Aren't those kids they hired straight out of school experienced enough to handle _real _cases?"

"I'm not here to argue the merits of the current Starfleet mental health system."

"Then why are you here, Spock?" Christine stopped and turned to him. "How are you involved in this case?"

"In researching your suitability for this matter, Dr. McCoy discovered the two of us had served under Captain Pike's command. When you turned down his initial request, he asked if I would intervene."

"You couldn't just pick up a communicator?"

"I reasoned you might be more receptive to the appeal if it were made in person."

Christine studied the Vulcan carefully, walking around his body as if inspecting him. "And what am I supposed to get out of it?"

"You will be paid according to your current fee schedule."

"Including transportation and per diem for food, lodging and incidentals."

"As expected. How soon do you believe you'll be able to come to San Francisco?"

"Not so fast, Spock. I didn't say I would do it. There are other considerations as well. I'll have to evaluate each of my current cases to ensure I will not impair their treatment by my absence."

"From appearances, you seem to have done quite well for yourself in the short period since you've left Starfleet - a staff of 16 professionals and support staff; clientele from throughout this quadrant of the galaxy; and numerous speaking engagements."

"There are some cultures who don't even recognize traumatic stress as a legitimate disorder. We offer confidential and effective care for anyone who comes to us."

"I have come to you, Christine. I need you."

"I can't decide which cliché would be more appropriate." She told him in a flash anger. "Should I slap your face or just walk away."

"Neither gesture is fitting for the woman before me. Although if you are giving me a choice, I would prefer the later option."

She tried to stifle it, but the sound of her laughter escaped her lips. And, the Vulcan took that moment - when her defenses were down - to move close to her . . . so close, she could feel his heat.

"This is the woman I chose to remember . . . the tender and attentive nurse whose laughter fell upon all who was in her care . . . including a certain Vulcan."

And, when his eyes met hers, she could not look away.

"Christine." He called her name gently. "Come to San Francisco with me."

For a moment, she basked in this moment . . . taking in his gaze . . . his face . . . his presence. But then, _she awakened._

"All right, Spock, I'll do it. But whenever I am there, you need to keep your distance from me."

"I will do as you ask." He replied.

Then Christine added coolly, "Now, you better back off of me before I remember all the reasons why I hate you."

Christine Chapel was introduced to Uhura as a consultant who would observe sessions from a monitor. The cadet consented to the arrangement, although she initially wondered why anyone would find such additional attention necessary. After _the incident_, the East African agreed to at least twelve therapy sessions, but quickly found these periods a waste of her time. Her therapist – Sandra Myerson - always seemed preoccupied and had little strategy to get below the complacent mask Uhura wore to these meetings.

Christine thought she could coach Myerson between appointments with Uhura and still fly back and forth from Boulder to meet most of her own client obligations. However, after observing several sessions she soon discovered the young therapist ill-prepared to handle the quick-witted Cadet who now seemed to treat the meetings as a game. Uhura easily manipulated the therapist and guided the sessions to her liking. There was no discernible progress in the East African's case.

And then, there was Dr. Leonard McCoy. Although ostensibly a cadet, the doctor's previous accomplishments and renown earned him unprecedented status in the medical corps for someone in his position. Christine readily recognized this fact and came to realize how his knowledge, experienced and impassioned presence had caused even established personnel to acquiesce to his self-made authority. Therefore, she was not surprised when he stopped her as she attempted to leave the Medical Treatment Facility to catch a flight back to Boulder.

"I don't know what you think you're getting paid for, nurse, but I'm tired of seeing your backside when you're supposed to be here helping Cadet Uhura."

"Doctor, let me remind you I didn't create this excuse for a mental health program. Under the current system, most of these patients would probably receive more effective treatment by talking with their bartenders."

"You needn't lecture me on the dubious quality of the current program. You were hired to deal with only one person."

"I can only deal with Ms. Uhura indirectly through someone unqualified to deal with traumatic distress disorders. Frankly, I did not know how inadequate mental health staffing was until my first day here. In hindsight under these circumstances I may not have accepted the job."

"So, now both you and Uhura are ready to throw in the towel."

"What do you mean? Cadet Uhura is a bright young woman with an exemplary academic record. From all reports before the incident, she had a promising future with Starfleet and even aspired to one day serving as a bridge officer."

"Well that dream is nearly all, but dead. I found out she requested Captain Pike remove her from the Academy Leadership Program. She told him she now preferred a Terran-based administrative position translating intercepted intergalactic messages. Pike wisely told her he would not accept her withdrawal from the program until she had more time to consider her decision. However, if she does not change her mind within a month, we'll get to watch as she transforms herself from a vibrant butterfly to a dull bookworm."

Her considerable experience in this field informed Christine of the validity of the doctor's prognosis. In the few sessions she had witnessed, she could see signs of growing alienation. That trend needed to be stopped as soon as possible, before the effect on her psyche became irreversible.

"So, tell me, Nurse Chapel." McCoy continued. "Is your stellar reputation based on actual merit or an excellent marketing campaign?"

Although feeling the pinch of his slight, the specialist chose not to address it. "I'll need sole charge of Ms. Uhura's case. Sessions will take place three times a week, instead of one."

"The therapy is voluntary. She'll have to agree to this change in her therapy schedule."

"From what I can tell, I believe she still wants to be helped. Her instincts tell her nothing will come of the present arrangement, so she is simply biding her time. I believe she will accept this change and I don't aim to let her down when she does."

Encouraged, McCoy asked, "When can you begin these sessions?"

"Look, I'm not Mother Theresa. Starfleet will somehow have to find a way to fund this change in my contract and I'm sure you can tell from the invoices I've already submitted my services don't come cheap."

"I'm aware of the cost. Don't worry, I'll get the authorization for the additional expense and I'll talk with Uhura about the change."

"All right, then. I'll need a few days to make further arrangements for my clients in Boulder. Now I better run before I miss my flight." McCoy watched as she hurried away, and then found an empty room where he took out his communicator.

"Spock, here." McCoy heard the voice speak.

"She agreed to take over the case as your predicted, sir."

"Nurse Chapel is a dedicated professional. I had no doubt she would accept the challenge, once she realized Ms. Uhura's career was at stake."

"Sir, there is one major change. We expected her to increase the number of sessions to twice a week, but Christine said she would meet with her three times a week. With the additional frequency of travel and payment for private sessions at her rate, that will substantially increase the cost of the therapy."

"The cost is inconsequential. As I thought I already made clear, I have access to sources that can adequately cover these expenses."

"The funds certainly aren't coming from Starfleet. Are you able to tap into some other type of Federation funding, sir?"

A brief pause provided McCoy with the Vulcan's only response, before he added. "Doctor, please continue to redirect all of Nurse Chapel's invoices to my attention and provide regular reports on Ms. Uhura's progress."

It did not take Uhura long to recognize Nurse Chapel was nothing like her former therapist. Tough and exacting, she would not allow Uhura to slip into the comfort of easy answers. Instead, session by session she broke down the barriers to discovery Uhura had erected.

By the fourth week under Christine's care, the therapist had established a rapport with the Cadet allowing her to uncover the guilt, shame and doubts about the night she was attacked. Uhura felt she had made progress with Chapel, but she still did not feel competent enough to lead.

"How can I command others when they'll know I could be taken so easily?"

"That's what Leveque told you." Christine commented.

"It was probably the one true thing he told me that night." Uhura told her.

"A rapist draws power by disempowering others. The more vulnerable he can make you feel, the more control he believes he has at his command. He has blinded you to your ability to overcome his attempt to dominate you."

"If he would have . . . if he would have come inside me . . ." Her voice began to break.

"He did come inside you, Uhura. Leveque is in your head and only you can remove him from there."

The Cadet hesitated, before she confessed, "I don't know how."

Christine was pleased with her answer. It was a necessary step to allowing her to guide Uhura to a realization of her own inner strengths.

"I would like us to revisit that night." The therapist told her.

"But I told you all I could remember."

"You've told me all you could consciously remember. I would like to try a technique with you that may reveal something yet unspoken. Have you heard of hypnosis, Ms. Uhura?"

Nurse Chapel gave a detailed explanation of the process and answered the Cadet's questions. Anxious for a significant breakthrough, Uhura agree to the therapy.

After inducing the hypnotic state, Christine began to ask a series of questions about the circumstances which led to the incident. Then she asked Uhura to recount her narrative after Leveque had laid her nearly totally paralyzed body on one of the beds in her room.

"His hands . . . " She remembered, "His hands were very cold . . . and he started to remove my clothing."

"All of it?" Christine asked.

"No. Everything . . . below the waist . . . shoes . . . socks . . . my panty. Then he pulled my skirt above my waist."

"The first time any man saw you this way."

She hesitated, and then admitted. "Yes . . . first time . . . a man exposed himself to me . . . straddled over me . . ."

"You didn't want this."

"The rancid odor of his body mixed with whiskey . . . No, I didn't want this . . . _didn't want him_ . . . "

"What happened, Uhura? What happened next?"

"He came down on top of me . . . he was going to take it . . . he was going to take what was mine."

"But, you wouldn't let him do it. You were able to fight back."

"I hit him with his liquor bottle . . . I smashed it against his head."

"You stopped him, Uhura. You stopped him."

"He fell on top of me . . . his blood from his head wound fell on top of me . . . couldn't move him . . . wanted him off of me . . . suffocating me . . . corrupting me . . . losing my mind . . . had to stop him . . ."

"What did you do, Uhura? What did you do to stop him?"

"I prayed for God not to leave me like this."

"Then what happened?"

"I don't know . . . Kirk came . . . knocked Leveque off of me . . ."

"From the statements, nearly 17 minutes probably elapsed before Kirk arrived in your room. With the overdose of the drug Leveque gave to you, you may have died if you had not kept consciousness. Yet, you survived. You held on, Uhura. You found the will to hold on to life."

"Yes . . . yes . . . I remembered." She said with tears streaming down her face. "I remembered what he told me."

"What who told you? Leveque?"

"No. Not him . . . someone else . . . someone who care deeply about. A year ago – I came back from a first year off-planet training mission that had gone terribly wrong. When I returned to our base outside of the city, he was there. And just as we parted he told me, _I want you to know that simply your safe return would greatly please me.__1_I remembered what he said and it was all I needed . . . it was all I needed to hold on to."

No need now to ask his identity. Christine now knew who had spoken those words.

In The House of Diarmuid2 – the gray-haired Irish manager of the teahouse brought a tray with a teapot and several cups to Spock and Christine's table. He commented to the pair, "This is almost beginning to seem like old times. Your tea is served."

"Now, Diarmuid." Christine playfully scolded him. "I told you I didn't want anything. I ate so much at dinner earlier tonight, it's a wonder I was able to fit through the door."

"I heard you tell that lie when you walked in here. Listen girl, you haven't gained a single kilogram since we last served together. Has it been seven or eight years ago?"

"Only seven years – although I'm sure Spock could give us the time to the second."

"Seven years, six months, 23 days, 43 minutes and 2 seconds." The Vulcan offered.

"See what you've done." Diarmuid complained. "You've prompted this computer of a man to speak."

"Diarmuid." Spock interjected. "I believe you have other customers to attend to."

"Nobody's crying for me, yet, and I haven't had a chance to give my spiel about this tea to Christine." Speaking directly to her, he explained. "It's of the sencha variety still grown in Japan. I made sure the water is not too hot so it will have a mellower, herbal taste. It should settle your stomach if you actually have overindulged. If not, it's also a nice way to wind down an evening before getting other things started, if you know what I mean."

Having long grown used to his thinly veiled sexual comments, Christine simply smiled. However, Spock surprised both she and Diarmuid by not bristling as expected.

"I see Spock isn't going to be any fun tonight." The manager huffed after failing to get a rise out of the Vulcan. He moved on to another table.

Christine watched as Spock poured the tea as if serving a prized delicacy. After he filled both of their cups, she reached for hers and tasted it as he waited patiently.

"Mmmm . . . it's just as Diarmuid claimed."

Spock took a sip. "The temperature is too cool. I have told him a number of times he should use a thermometer when preparing our best teas."

"It tastes fine to me."

"A discerning palate would know better."

Christine sat down her cup. She was sure he had no awareness he had insulted her. He never seemed to know. Spock called Diarmuid back to the table and gave him specific instructions before sending him off.

"While you have been in San Francisco, I have honored your request to remain apart from you. Now that your services have brought about a satisfactory outcome in the case of Cadet Uhura, I was pleased when you accepted my invitation to dine before returning to your home, tomorrow. I wanted to show my appreciation for your fine work."

_That was at least some progress. _She thought. _Previously, he would have just assumed there was no need for such gestures. _

"Ms. Uhura needed to recognize her own inner strengths and draw upon those things which are most important to her." She commented. "All I did was serve as an agent for her recovery."

"You did much more than such a simple statement could convey. Please be aware I do not take your work for granted. Thank you, Christine."

She should have accepted it on face value – a sincere expression of the Vulcan's gratitude. However, old wounds that had, yet, to heal began a slow burn.

"If I get back to my hotel room at a decent hour, I suppose I could write my final invoice and send it straight to you. Why bother with Dr. McCoy as middleman when I can direct it straight to Ms. Uhura's benefactor?"

"As you wish."

"Thank you for not attempting to deny it."

"I have never lied to you, Christine."

"How long have you been in love with her?"

"You once told me I was incapable of that emotion."

"She's young."

"Not so young."

"She's just a cadet."

"I find her to be a remarkable woman."

"In the past, you seemed to prefer a sexually experienced women."

Fully aware of her subtext, Spock did not dodge her inference. "In the past, you were more than willing to accommodate me with _no strings attached._ I do believe that was the term you used, but later decided to discard when it became untenable for you."

Ashamed of her behavior, Christine provided no rebuttable.

"Thank you for not attempting to deny it." Spock stated to firmly shut the door on this line of conversation.

Diarmuid set down a tea tray before Spock and Christine. He noted the strained mood between them and quipped before leaving them, "Now this really does seem like old times."

Spock once again poured the tea, but this time tasted it first. "Yes. This is prepared as it should be." The Vulcan nodded to her and she picked up the cup. Holding it to her lips she allowed the warm liquid to move across her tongue and down her throat. Speaking no words for the next few minutes served to calm her as the tea had its effect.

"I'm sorry, Spock." She finally said. "Sometimes I think _I'm _in need of therapy."

The Vulcan wisely chose not to comment on that statement. He knew she had overstepped her bounds. However, Christine was able to find his Nyota and bring her back to him. He could forgive many transgressions for what the good Nurse had accomplished.

The Vulcan looked toward the future with new vigor. For although he believed he could not give Uhura what she needed, Spock could keep her safe. He was determined to keep her safe.

**Author's Notes: **

There will be more interaction between Spock and Uhura in the next chapter. And, yes the author is still on track to dramatize their first kiss by Christmas. She'll try to make it worth your while.

Your comments are always welcome.

1 See the end of Chapter 17.

2 See Chapter 8 for a more detailed description of Chapter 8.


	37. Chapter 37 A Human Connection

**Author's Note:** Chapter 37 is the last section of a storyline that began with Chapter 28. Occurring during Uhura's second year as a Starfleet cadet, this chapter involves Uhura, Spock, Jack, Gaila, Cadet Damitra Clarke, and Ensign Shen Tan.

The hangar at StarBase One hummed with the sound of landing shuttles, signaling the end of the 2nd year cadet six-week deep space training. From an observation window, Spock and Captain Pike's son, Jack, waited as officers and cadets disembarked.

"I hope Dad's on this one. I can't wait to tell him about my summer vacation with Mom."

"The Captain must necessarily be the last of the mission crew to leave the StarShip as the in-dock operations staff takes over."

"But I've already seen Captains Hernandez and Kern."

"They were piloting smaller ships. The Potemkin and the Colorado have yet to complete debarkation."

"Dad captained the Colorado, right?"

"That is correct."

"And the Colorado's shuttles are landing toward the center."

"Yes, the markings on the spacecraft are distinct."

"Then, Mr. Spock, why do you keep looking toward the left where the Potemkin's shuttles are landing?"

Spock chided himself for being so obvious. _Had he been that anxious to see her? _ Still, a fitting reply to the boy came easily. "Jack, as the Captain's son you are understandably particularly interested in the arrival of your father. However, in my role as a Starfleet Officer, I am duty bound to be concerned with all crew."

"You mean you're not supposed to show favoritism?"

"Yes, that word would be appropriate in –" The sight of _her_ coming out of the shuttlecraft took away Spock's speech. Dressed in her red cadet's jacket and skirt, her radiant face and energetic movement seemed to belong to one who had returned from a long vacation rather than a training mission. With duffel bag over a shoulder, Uhura began to head toward the exit doors with her crewmates. Then suddenly she stopped and turned back. Approaching her was a young ethnic Chinese Malaysian officer who Spock recognized as Ensign Shen Tan. While she stood at attention and Tan assumed an authoritative posture, Spock noted a slight lean toward Uhura in the officer's posture that was not _by the book._

"There he is! There's Dad!" The boy said excitedly. "Let's go meet him."

Standing outside the hanger doors, Spock watched as officer family members greeted their returning loved ones.

"What's taking Dad so long to come out?"

"He must sign off on the ship's manifest and several other reports." Spock advised him. "You must be patient." The Vulcan could have used similar counsel as he wondered, _Is Nyota still engaged with Ensign Tan?_

The Vulcan looked up to an overhead monitor just as the doors slid open and several dozen cadets came out, including Uhura. However, seemingly engrossed in conversation with a female cadet, she passed by him without taking notice.

For a moment, he looked after her before he reasoned, _It makes no difference if we spoke just, yet. She will come to see me soon enough._

After Uhura had walked a prudent distance, she turned back to make sure she had seen the Vulcan. When she did so she found Spock with hands clasped behind his back, while looking on the scene of Captain Pike embracing his son.

The East African continued to walk with her new friend named Damitra Clarke, while the Jamaican continued her rant about how no one outside of her homeland believed they had contributed anything of worth to music besides reggae. Having previously heard this argument several times before, Uhura knew she had only to include a few "hmmmps" at appropriate places to appear as if she were listening.

The six-week deep space training had been a good one for her. Since friends like Kirk, McCoy and Gaila had been assigned to other StarShips, she had to build other relationships with cadets she had hardly known. Weekly follow-up counseling sessions with Nurse Chapel via confidential intergalactic messaging gave her the confidence she needed to forge these relations, while learning the routine of her position as a member of the communications crew.

And then, there was Ensign Shen Tan.

Uhura initially met the Shen at an Interfaith Meeting during her first year at the Academy. A Muslim from Malaysia in his fourth year at the Academy, Shen discussed the tenets of his faith and cited similarities with other religions. After the meeting, she accompanied Shen and several others to a grill at the Student Union where they had the usual fare for cadets on a limited budget - sodas, hamburgers and chili cheese fries. At the time, she doubted if she made much of an impression on him, but she had no trouble remembering the handsome and ambitious accountant/lawyer.

Within a day of the beginning of her tour on the U.S.S. Potemkin, Uhura almost literally ran into the now Ensign Tan as she rushed to her assignment so not to be late for her shift. To her surprise, not only did Shen recall her, but also her name. As she started to move again toward her destination, he told her about the ship's Interfaith Group.

"Our first meeting is tonight at 8 in Rec Room F." He said quickly.

Anxious to get to know more of the crew as well as meet other believers, she told him over her shoulder, "I'll be there . . . sir." She hastily added as she remembered his rank.

After working her shift and eating dinner with fellow cadets, she hurried to Rec Room F with iTablet in hand to access her Bible. When the door opened, she found Shen alone sitting at a table with a taquiyah on his head. He stood up upon her entrance.

"I'm sorry, sir." Uhura apologized. "I must have misunderstood the time. It was very kind of you to wait for me."

"Ms. Uhura, you're not late."

"You mean there's only two of us on the entire ship?"

"There might be a few more, but for some it is difficult to admit belief in the face of so much doubt."

Uhura nodded knowingly. She recalled as an undergraduate how she kept her newfound religious convictions a secret from many of her friends until close to graduation.

"Of course, there are other matters we should consider." He continued. "I am no longer a cadet. And, since I am your superior officer, there may be a question of propriety."

"Sir, I know you are the attorney, but Section 1256.2 of Federation Law protects those with religious beliefs. And, within these walls we can treat each other as equals irrespective of rank. Agreed, sir?"

Shen smiled. "Only if you can stop calling me – sir."

"Yes, sir . . . I mean . . . " She laughed. "Just . . . Yes!"

Initially, they decided on a format where they would pray, then read from the Bible or Qur'an and discuss the meaning of the scriptures. They would conclude the session by closing with a prayer. Before long they decided to expand their weekly meetings to three and then every other day. By the fourth week, they habitually began to remain long after their spiritual activities to discuss memories of their homeland and Starfleet ambitions.

While other crewmembers seemed not to notice, Damitra could not resist teasing Uhura about her "spiritual activities" in the cafeteria at breakfast.

"Did you enjoy your prayer service last night?"

"We call it an interfaith meeting. And, yes, I did enjoy it." Uhura answered, trying to stifle a yawn.

"I'm sure you did. So much so that you had to sneak into your berth long after lights out."

"We lost track of the time."

"Yes . . . go on." The Jamaican said as she leaned forward.

"Go on? You act as though there is something to tell."

"Are you going to give me the details or not?"

"You'd be bored."

"Haven't you been alone with this man almost every other day for nearly five weeks?"

"Yes."

"He's an officer."

"Right."

"With degrees in accounting and law."

"This is true."

"In his late twenties, but already with an appointment as an Assistant Comptroller."

"I see someone has been busy reading officer bios."

"He's attractive and you are . . . I guess you're all right looking."

"Thanks?"

"And you both share this faith thing."

"Something like that."

"And you're trying to tell me _nothing is happening?_"

Uhura paused for a moment, not sure what she wanted to divulge. Although her weekly communications with Nurse Chapel had disclosed her relationship with Ensign Tan, there were some feelings she had chosen not to share with anyone. _Not yet._

Damitra waited in silence sensing her friend was on the verge of disclosure. This time she sat back in her chair to give the East African the space to reflect out loud. Her patience was soon rewarded.

"I believe he does have feelings for me. I can hear it in his voice . . . so attentive, as though every word I say has meaning. And, there are times he stands so close to me . . . I can feel his heat."

Damitra suppressed a smile. _This is going to be good. _The Jamaican nodded to encourage Uhura to continue.

"And at those times, when he stands there . . . so close . . . I know he is waiting for me . . . waiting for me to give him a sign . . . "

No longer able to take the suspense, "Damn it, Uhura, finish your sentence!"

"He waits for a sign as to whether I want him."

Damitra lowers her voice. "You mean to do _the nasty_?"

"You said it." Uhura confirmed, not really knowing quite what _doing the nasty_ actually entailed.

"Oh, yeah, girl."

"But the time has to be right. So, we downloaded our calendars and found the perfect date."

"You set a date?"

"Oh, yes."

"When?"

"April 1."

"But that's next year. Our mission ends in another week."

Uhura smiled. "Come on, Damitra Our shifts are about to start." Uhura picked up her tray and headed to the recycle station.

Suddenly realizing, Damitra snatched up her tray and trailed after the East African. She satirically commented, "OK, I get it. April Fools Day. LOL, Uhura. LOL."

As Damitra prattled on, a _rush _of feelings came over Uhura as she reflecting on seeing Mr. Spock upon her return from mission. _Just as fine as ever. I think I'm even beginning to think those ears are kind of sexy. _

What Uhura could not tell Nurse Chapel or her too-new-to-be-trusted friend, Damitra, is there was still only one man who awakened any sense of desire within her. A need she felt could only be met by his words . . . his breath . . . his touch . . . his . . .

_Damn it, Uhura, finish your sentence! _As she recalled Damitra's admonishment, she laughed out loud, disrupting the Jamaican's well-worn argument.

"Did I say something funny?" The startled woman asked.

"No . . . no. I'm sorry, girl. Go on." As Damitra found her speed again, Uhura directed her focus to Ensign Shen Tan. He really was the perfect match for her. So much in common with many shared values. _Yes, Baba would approve of someone so comforting . . . so predictable . . . so human in every way. _

The man Uhura wanted had never shown her comfort.

The man Uhura desired never failed to surprise her.

And although biologically this man was part human – the man Uhura needed looked, reasoned, and behaved like a Vulcan in every way.

_I need him, even though I'm not sure if he even gives a second thought about me._

Prompted by the insanity of her circumstance, Uhura erupted in laughter again. Damitra just rolled her eyes.

Uhura needed to see Spock, again. And, while she was on the USS Potemkin, she spent many hours thinking of the excuse for her entrée into his world. She found her answer in one of the few personal possessions she had taken with her on mission. She found her access to the Vulcan in a book of poems.

The third term was not set to begin for eight days. However, the day after she returned from her training, Uhura came to Spock's office dressed in civilian clothes with a kente scarf draped across her shoulder. She held the straps of her purse tightly in her hand and took a breath before entering the office.

He was there.

Mr. Spock was there seemingly absorbed in his work behind his computer console.

Uhura stood patiently waiting for him to take notice.

Time passed and then she decided to speak.

"Mr. Spock."

"One moment, Ms. Uhura." He said without taking his eyes off of the computer screen as he typed in his comments. After several more minutes, the Vulcan turned his chair toward the Cadet to take her into his view.

"You must learn to wait until you see there is a suitable break to avoid disrupting my work."

Slightly taken aback by his comment, Uhura could only reply, "I'm sorry, Mr. Spock."

Standing, his eyes scanned her attire. "You hardly seemed dressed for duty, Cadet."

Not sure why he would make that remark, she replied. "Sir, I returned from mission only yesterday and the third semester has not yet begun. Academy policy does allow civilian clothing during this period."

"Then, if you are not here to begin your appointment, then please reveal the reason for your presence."

She began to ask him why he continued to make reference to some sort of service or work detail, but then the Vulcan added, "I trust you are not here to again inquire about a missing red scarf."1

As her indignation began to smolder, Uhura now doubted the wisdom of her visit. "The scarf was returned to me, sir."

"In good condition?"

Uhura's eyes held steadfast on him as she retorted, "The sender should know full well the condition the article was returned to me, sir."

"Then no doubt the recipient should be satisfied with its state."

"As I hope you will be with the return of this volume." Reaching into her bag, she pulled out the book of poems by T'Plau M'Kloek and handed it to Spock.

"This appears to be the book I gave to Cadet Mendez for his enlightenment."2

"Yes, sir."

Uhura watched as the Vulcan examined the volume, his fingers carefully turning the pages he knew had been touched by the East African.

"How may I ask did you come by it?"

"I would rather not say, sir."

"I see. Well, wherever you obtained it, the leaves appear as though they have been handled frequently. There are even creases in the corners of some pages. While I do not approve its treatment, the condition suggests the reader may have been edified as intended."

"Although that is a worthwhile purpose, I am sure the experience entailed more than edification."

"Explain."

"May I?" Uhura retreived the book from Spock and then turned to one of the dog-eared pages. "Here it is . . . The poem, 'I'tah tehrai k'etwel .' I believe it translates as 'He shall not find it here.'"

"Yes, the translation is a rough, but adequate approximation given the constraints of the Federation language." As though an instructor participating in an exam of a student, Spock stood before her in an authoritative pose. "Often the muse is best served if one does not endeavor to lessen the effect of literature by compromising its meaning through translation. Is it possible for you to read these words in its original form?"

Unconsciously, Uhura touched her kente scarf and then accepted the challenge. So not to think about her former disastrous attempt to speak Spock's native tongue, she began her reading by looking directly at the words on the page. Although her first words had more of an academic tone, she soon found the more polished cadence reminiscent of what Spock heard when he listened to her recitation of the poetry standing nearby in the shadows.3 Then unexpectedly she lifted her eyes and continued her private performance with the Vulcan in her sights until the conclusion of the poem.

Moments passed.

Spock watched as her slender brown fingers reached for her scarf, again, before she spoke. "Your evaluation, sir."

Initially, the Vulcan called attention to her enunciation of several words containing the same triphthong. After his demonstration, she repeated the sound and then the words until he gave his approval. "Overall, I deem you presentation as satisfactory considering the slight defect in the conciseness of your speech. However, even that flaw would barely be noticeable by most non-Vulcans who claim proficiency in the language."

Her smiling face gave her foretold her response, "High praise coming from you, sir."

"Indeed. However, I am most curious about something."

"Yes, sir."

"How long have you had the volume in your possession?"

She would not lie to him. " Months, sir."

"Did you only realize quite recently the book originally belonged to me?"

"No, sir."

"Then what motivated you to bring it to me at this time?"

"I bring not just the book, sir." She sat it down at his workstation.

"Then, what more do you have to offer?"

Having gone this far, she realized there was no turning back now. Uhura's eyes found his and she was determined not to let him go until she told all which needed to be said.

"There is an African tradition to give a gift to mark significant occasions or accomplishments. Yesterday, I returned from my tour signifying the end of my second year toward my goal of becoming a Starfleet Officer. And when I came to my dorm I found a package there from my Nana. She is my maternal grandmother from West Africa."

"Ms. Uhura, I am sure this story has meaning to you, but I fail to see how this relates to the question I posed to you."

"Please bear with me, sir."

Spock nodded for her to proceed.

"The gift was this kente cloth, which I have chosen to wear as a scarf."

"A most practical present. Its generous size will make it less likely to be misplaced."

"Mr. Spock." The cadet told her superior officer in a tone reminiscent of a mother giving a warning to her child to behave.

"Please, go on."

"Kente holds special meaning for my people. Each one of the hand-woven designs provides a visual depiction of our history, philosophy and social customs. The one she chose for me is called, Abusua Ye Dom, and represents the power of the extended family. It's a connection, sir, which will last until the end of time."

"Figuratively speaking."

This woman would not back down. She recognized how the Vulcan used words as his shield against betraying his emotions and Uhura was determined to render that defense useless.

"Not long ago, you took me to the Brooklyn Bridge and told me the story of a man bold enough to reach out his hand to someone unlike himself to make a connection . . . a human connection."

"I do recall that story."

"_You _accepted the hand of the captain and he became your friend. Is this not true?"

"Yes." He the Vulcan replied tersely.

"And I believe you told me this very personal story, because in your own way you were trying to reach out to me. Is this not true?"

Silence.

"Mr. Spock . . . is this not true?"

Silence.

Uhura could not find her voice. _It hurt . . . the silence hurt._

But she was not willing to give up. _Not yet._

There was only one thing . . . one human thing . . . she could think to do.

Spock watched as the East African raised her slender brown arm and reached out her hand to him. For a moment, he felt the impulse . . . a desire to take it . . . take her hand and pull her close against him. He needed her . . . and he wanted her to need him.

But then he saw it . . . the scar on her hand from that night . . . the night he could not protect her . . . the night he could not provide her with comfort.

The Vulcan could not move.

Uhura lowered her arm, but no tears came to her eyes. _Didn't she want to know? Didn't she get an answer? _

The East African found where she had laid her bag and started to head out the door. However, she did not reach it before she heard him call her name. _Oh, so now the statue has come back to life. _

Uhura thought twice about responding, but then decided she had to know what he could now possibly want of her.

"Yes, sir." She said as she turned back to him.

"You are, of course, not obligated to report to me any earlier. However, it would be best if you did so at least three days before the semester begins so I can review your duties."

"Duties? What duties?"

"As my Course Assistant."

"Sir, I'm afraid you must be mistaken. I'll be serving as Dr. Greeley's assistant."

Moving to his console, he asked, "Did you not have a chance to review your schedule fpr the semester?" Uhura placed her purse on the table by his workstation and then stood behind him as he brought her schedule to the screen, confirming his assertion.

"Why didn't she let me know?"

"I am sure she assumed you would have taken the time to visit her first upon your return to campus. Is she not your advisor and the head of the Xenolinquistics Department?"

"Weren't there any other openings in my discipline?"

"I suppose that question would best be answered by Dr. Greeley."

"Excuse me, sir. I better go see her right away."

Spock watched Uhura hurry out of his office and noticed she had forgotten her purse. She appeared so distressed, the Vulcan wondered if she would be able to persuade Greeley to change her mind about the Cadet's assignment. Perhaps, Greeley would feel Spock did not have enough evidence after all to prove sections of her dissertation had been plagiarized. When the Vulcan confronted the faculty member in her office four days ago, he asked her, "Eighteen years ago, was that not the reason you dismissed my mother from your thesis committee? Did she not raise similar questions as I about the authenticity of some of your work?"

Spock decided he needed insurance to make sure _Nyota_ would be with him. She would be with him, in a place where he could provide _his protection . . . his care . . . his security_.

Uhura came into her dorm room and threw her body down on her bed.

"Hey, what's wrong with you?" Gaila said as she pinned up her red hair.

"Almost everything." Uhura mumbled with her face buried in her pillow. She turned over on her backside to see the Orion dressed in uniform. "Where are you off to?"

"Security detail. I should have done like you and Kirk and put in my time over the holidays."

"Six in one hand; a half a dozen in the other."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing . . . nothing."

While she is looking in the mirror, checking her makeup the Orion asked, "Anything you want to talk about before I submit myself to misery?"

Uhura thought it a useless exercise considering the focus of her roommate's attention, but she decided to proceed. "I was supposed to be Dr. Greeley's assistant this semester, but I found out today she gave it to one of her former aides who's now in his fourth year. She told me he has more experience, but I know I have a greater proficiency with more languages than that guy ever will have."

"Shouldn't she know that?"

"All she would say is there might be an opening next semester."

"What about positions with other faculty in your department?"

"They've already got assistants. The schedule was supposedly since the end of Winter semester."

"So, it looks like you got screwed."

"Well, I do have an offer to serve as Mr. Spock's Course Assistant."

"Course Assistant with Mr. Spock? I know you turned that down."

"Dr. Greeley wants me to think about it. She said I'd have a better chance of getting a position in xenolinguistics if I can gain some experience."

"Mr. Spock – with all of the detailed, precise scientific research he does will take you with no experience as an assistant. However, Dr. Greeley won't and you're the best student she has. That's kind of strange, isn't it?"

Uhura suddenly realized the validity in Gaila statement, but tried to make sense of it. "Mr. Spock also teaches ethics and I did do well in that class."

"Yeah, maybe so." Gaila finished checking her makeup and then noticed something on the dresser. "Well, I can't seem to help you with that problem, but I do have some good news for you."

Gaila tossed Uhura's bag to her, which elicited a relieved response, "My purse! I couldn't remember what I had done with it. Where did you get this?"

"It was waiting for you at the reception desk when I came back to the dorm after my workout. Maya said some young kid with a thick Russian accent dropped it off. He said you left it in the Science Complex."

Uhura nodded. "It had to be Mr. Spock's office. Thanks for picking it up."

"No problem. Better go. Hopefully I'll be back before dawn." She said with dread as she left.

Uhura moved off her bed to place her bag inside one of her dresser drawers. As she did, she noticed it appeared heavier than she expected. Placing the bag on top of the dresser, she looked inside. Then the East African cursed herself as the tears fell upon recognizing one of the contents . . . the dog-eared book of Vulcan poems.

**Author's Notes: **

I am collapsing my next two chapters into one to meet my – Spock and Uhura's first kiss – deadline. After all this "foreplay," I hope I do not disappoint.

Your comments are always welcome.

1 See Chapter 32.

2 See Chapter 5.

3 See Chapter 33.


	38. Chapter 38 Men

**Author's Note:** Chapter 38 returns to Uhura's third year as a Starfleet cadet. This chapter features Uhura, Spock, Captain Christopher Pike and his son, Jack.

Sorry – this chapter does not contain the first kiss and, yes, I missed my Christmas posting deadline (having too much fun). However, the "promised" chapter is actually written and will go up after I proofread it.

Your comments are always welcome.

At 2:07 AM, Spock left the Daystrom Physics Laboratory where he had been conducting his condensed matter experiments. As he walked through the Science Complex, at this early morning hour the Vulcan found the walkways deserted with the exception of the security detail stationed at this part of campus.

Spock had no need to stop by his office before heading to his apartment. However, as he started to pass by, he noticed it still appeared to be illuminated. He reasoned the electronic sensor must have malfunctioned, since the lights normally would turn off automatically when persons were not detected. The Vulcan decided he would go inside to manually turn off the lights.

Just as Spock walked in and reached for the light dimmer switch, he noticed a figure slumped across a workstation. _Nyota._

Quickly crossing to her, Spock experienced a bit of relief upon realizing she was simply asleep. He noticed her workstation filled with items - such as printed programs and electronic name badges - connected to the symposium concerning the research project headed by Ensign Peja Slovich. Spock began the shutdown process on her computer after taking care to save her moderator script and logistic, equipment, guest and beverage/appetizer lists.

"Ms. Uhura." He called to her, but she did not stir. He increased his volume as he called her name, again, but there was still no effect. Seeing no other option, he placed his hand on her shoulder and gently shook her.

As the Cadet gained consciousness, she suddenly sat up abruptly when realizing the presence of a warm hand on her shoulder. _His hand._

"Oh, Mr. Spock!" She exclaimed.

"My intent was not to startle you."

Embarrassed he had found her in such a state, she chose not to turn her chair, yet, to face him. "I wasn't startled, sir."

"Then which word would you prefer? Did I shock, surprise, disconcert, disturb or disquiet you?"

_Smart ass _was the first thought which came to mind, but even in her exhausted condition she realized she could not use that response. She also knew herself to be in no condition to match words with the quick-witted Vulcan who could function on far less sleep than full-bloodied humans.

Uhura replied, "On second thought, you probably did _startle _me. However, I am sure it was –"

Her last statement went unfinished as she gasped in reaction to the blank computer screen before her. She quickly turned on the computer and signed in.

"Ms. Uhura, are you aware of the hour?"

"Not exactly, but I'm sure it is late." Her eyes now fixed on the screen before her.

"It is 2:17 AM. Surely, you have not decided to continue working at this time."

"Before I fell asleep, I remember the computer being on and I was revising some of the documents needed for the seminar."

"If you are concerned about those files, rest assured I saved each of them before activating the computer's shutdown process."

"Sir, I'm sure you meant well, but I spent a lot of time on those documents. As the person charged by you to manage this event, I just want to make sure my revisions were saved properly."

Her comments caused Spock to raise an eyebrow and fold his arms. Not even to himself would he admit her unintentional slight hit its target.

After completing her task, he heard her breathe a sigh of relief.

"I trust all is in order." He said stiffly.

Uhura shut down the computer. "As far as I can tell. I'll give it a more thorough review later."

"Indeed." The Vulcan commented drily as the East African turned her chair to face him. Upon doing so, she became aware his eyes seemed to focus on a part of her face.

"Sir, why are you staring at me like that?"

"I am just noticing something about you which deviates from your normal appearance."

Drained from the late-night work, Uhura really did not care. _It's probably a zit. _Still she asked him, "What is it?"

"There looks to be a liquid substance about your mouth and extending to your chin. I believe it is known drool."

Uhura's eyes opened wide as she grabbed her purse, found a small mirror, and checked to confirm the Vulcan's observation. Using a tissue, she quickly wiped away the offense.

When the East African turned back to him as if offering herself for inspection, he coolly commented, "I suppose you are presentable enough to venture out into public."

Uhura bit her lip to stop her tongue.

"It is time for us to leave the office."

"You can go on, Mr. Spock. If I call now, an escort from the security office will be here in a few minutes."

"Ms. Uhura, you do not require an escort when I can provide that service."

Uhura was in no mood to walk to her dorm with Mr. Spock and decided to think of an acceptable, but convincing response.

"Sir, at this hour, would it not be prudent if I used the escort service? After all, that would save you the time and inconvenience of walking me to my dorm and then going in the opposite direction _all the way back across campus_ to get to officer housing." Rising from her seat, she feigned sincerity when she added, "Mr. Spock, I am only thinking of you when I respectfully decline your offer."

Uhura reached into her bag to retrieve her communicator, but his stern voice brusquely stopped her action.

"Cadet Uhura, why are you under the impression you have a choice in this matter? As your immediate supervisor your safety is my responsibility. It is not a duty that is subject to be transfer as a discretionary matter. Have I made my position clear?"

Six minutes into the 23-minute walk across campus to Uhura's dorm, she felt herself shivering. During the daytime, the San Franciscan December temperature had neared a record high so the East African left her jacket in her room not thinking she would work so long at the office. With the early morning temperature later dropping to a more normal measure in the 40's, she suffered for her lack of foresight.

With his long strides, the tall Vulcan had no trouble keeping up with the petite woman who took quick steps in a hurry toward her destination. However, in doing so, he also could not help but recognize her distress.

"Cadet Uhura." He called to her.

_What is it now? _She thought as she stopped her progress. _Too damn cold to be out here having a discussion._

"Yes, sir." Before she had the opportunity to politely refuse, she found his jacket covering her. Toasty warm from the Vulcan's higher body temperature, the comfort the unexpected gesture brought her resulted only in a weak protest from the Cadet.

"But Mr. Spock, you shouldn't suffer just because I forgot to prepare for the change in weather. I know Vulcans have a more difficult time with cold temperatures than humans."

Spock answered her with no hesitation. "As a man, I will do what is necessary to provide the care expected of me."

"Don't you mean as an officer, sir?"

"Ms. Uhura, have I ever given you the impression of lacking preciseness in speech?"

Out of consideration of his sacrifice, Uhura continued her swift movement. Ever so often she looked to him to check on his condition, but neither his face nor body showed signs of discomfort.

When they reached the graduate women housing entrance, Uhura returned Spock's jacket to him. "Thank you, Mr. Spock."

"An expression of gratitude is unnecessary when it corresponds to an obligation."

Uhura's first instinct was not to react and just go inside to find her bed. However, as he put on his jacket her tongue would not let her be silent. _Not this time. _"Freedom to speak freely, sir."

"Granted."

"Being in the military, I realize there are many aspects of my life which I do not control. However, sir, you cannot dictate to whom, when, where and for what reason I choose to express my appreciation. I chose to thank you for your kind act and you damn well better accept it."

"Your impudence surprises me, Ms. Uhura. Must I advise you that even when given permission to speak one's mind, there still is a measure of propriety one must not violate."

Uhura knew she had crossed the line of decorum with her last comment. Yet, she was in no mood to retract it.

She countered, "What surprises me, Mr. Spock, is your lack of understanding of humanity. Just how long ago has it been since you came to Earth to enroll in the Academy."

"Fourteen years, four months, and 13 days."

"You are the child of a human and have spent the majority of your adult life among humans and, yet, this race is still quite alien to you, isn't it?"

"I am Vulcan. This is not my home."

"_Home_ is where you make it, Mr. Spock. After 14 years, isn't it time you stopped being a visitor?"

Silence.

Suddenly, Uhura feared he would shut down as he did when she had confronted him about their relationship shortly before the semester began.i She waited and started to once again feel the cold air take hold of her body.

And then, she saw something come across his face that could almost pass as a smile. Spock told her, "Without a doubt, in the future I shall take more time to consider requests from you to _speak freely_."

A small victory, but it was one that also warmed her with hope. Knowing they both needed their sleep for the important day ahead of them, Uhura realized she shoud allow him to be on his way. However, before she began to voice of words of parting, she noticed Spock had not, yet, zipped up his jacket.

Feeling empowered by her earlier success, Uhura came to him and said, "You can't walk all the way across campus to officers housing like that." Placing her hands at the bottom of his jacket, she placed the zipper hook in its base and pulled the slider up to the top stop as though she had done so many times in the past.

"That's more like it." The East African told him as she looked up and met his eyes.

_And Uhura knew she had stayed too long like this . . . _

_It was too familiar . . . _

_Too much like it was . . . right._

The Vulcan watched as Uhura began to tremble and back away from him. He wanted to pull her back to him and let her know . . . _everything._

But, now it was too late for she was all business.

"After I review the moderator's script again later this morning, I'll send you the final draft. After breakfast, I'll come by the office with volunteers to pick up the conference materials. We should have the room set by noon. That should give us plenty of time to troubleshoot any last minute issues before registration opens at 3 and the symposium begins at 4 PM on the dot. Sir, I know how you are about punctuality. I believe I have all the bases covered, but if you would like to look at my logistics plan I could send it to you this morning along with the moderator's script."

"That will not be necessary. It seems you have all aspects of the affair well in hand."

"Thank you, sir. Well, I better get inside before I freeze my ass . . . I mean . . . I'm sorry, sir."

"Good night, Ms. Uhura."

"Good night, sir."

6:37 AM Captain Pike, Jack and Spock wait in a booth at the diner, as the waitress cleared the table of their used dishes.

"Cool beans, Dad! Now I know why you and Mr. Spock come to eat here every Friday. The food is awesome."

"Cool beans?" His father remarked. "Do you know how old that phrase has got to be? And out of all the options you could have had for breakfast, you chose the same cereal you eat almost everyday."

"I don't know. Kinda tasted different here."

Spock commented, "The human palette can be influenced not only by direct stimuli, but also indirectly. In this case, we assume there is not appreciable difference in the direct stimuli of the cereal and milk accessible at your home and this diner."

"That's true." Pike added. "It's the same brand of cereal and there's only one producer of whole milk in this region."

"However, the indirect stimuli are quite different. Jack, it is my understanding you have never previously been to this particular establishment. Is that correct?"

"No, Dad's never taken me."

"Now wait a minute. Don't act as though I've never asked. Each time you've refused because you always want to go to the Pancake House."

"Well, that's because they have over 100 kinds of pancakes and waffles."

"Jack, you order the same kind every time – wheat pancakes with strawberries topped with whipped cream."

"And the pecan sprinkles." The boy added.

"How could I forget?"

Jack noticed the Vulcan sitting patiently watching father and son interact. "Dad, I think Mr. Spock still hadn't finished his point."

"I'm sorry, Spock." Pike said. "Please go on."

"What probably accounts for the difference in the perceived superior taste of the cereal at the diner is more than likely the indirect stimuli comprised of the dining experience and the level of pleasure one draws from one's companions."

"So, that means if I want my cereal to taste good all the time, I should come to breakfast with you and Dad every Friday." Jack surmised.

"Now wait a minute, son. I told you that you could join Mr. Spock and me once a month, but not every week. Just like I make sure I have time to spend with you, it is important for good friends to have time with each other."

"But, Mr. Spock and I are friends, too."

"Mr. Spock and I are adults, while you are still a child. Sometimes, Mr. Spock and I need to talk about adult matters that are not appropriate for your ears."

"I'm almost 12."

"You have over 10 ½ months to go. Even then, being 12 will only qualify you for pre-teen status - nothing more."

"Oh, Dad."

"Jack." Spock called for his attention. "Didn't Sonya tell you she would show you how she makes donuts after you finished your breakfast?"

"You're not trying to get rid of me, are you Mr. Spock?"

"What do you think?" The Vulcan asked in his usual no nonsense tone.

Jack does not hesitate to get up. "I think I'll go watch Sonya make donuts for a while."

Pike waited until his son reached one of the stools at the diner counter before speaking to Spock.

"Well, Spock, have you had time to consider my proposal?"

"I still do not know why it is necessary, sir. He does have a living mother. According to my research, the probability untimely demise of both of you before Jack reaches adulthood is almost statistically insignificant."

"You know as well as I that a StarShip Captain's mortality rate is nearly three times as high as it is for the general population. And if something were to happen that would not allow me to take care of Jack's needs, I want to make sure there still is a man in his life . . ._ the right man. _ And, I cannot think of anyone else who would be better suited than you to fulfill that role."

Spock hesitated, and then confessed. "I do not know if your assessment of my worthiness for such a position is accurate. In the early hours of this morning, I hardly behaved in a manner appropriate for my age or status."

"Early morning hours? Does this involve a woman?"

"Yes, sir."

"A sexual matter?"

"Yes and no, sir."

"Spock . . . we could continue to play 20 questions, but I'm afraid we won't get very far before the donut making demonstration loses Jack's interest."

The Vulcan hesitated, again, but then felt the need to complete his confession. "I was in the company of a woman for whom I realize I have a deep affection. I believe I had an opportunity to demonstrate that affection, but I hesitated and she no longer seemed interested."

"You struck out." Pike commented. "Well, Spock, that may be the first time for you, but all I can say is - _Welcome to the club._"

"Her reaction to me was a correct one. It was not an optimum time or the preferable conditions for such an expression. However, as the more experienced one between the two, I should have known better."

"Men can be stupid – _Welcome to the club."_

"I believe I allowed carnal desire to overtake my capacity for orderly, systematic and reasoned thought."

"Men sometimes get their penises confused with their brain – _Welcome to the club._ My friend, you need to stop beating yourself up over this. In fact, I believe I am in her debt. A woman who actually has resisted the sexual prowess of Mr. Spock! It almost makes you sound human."

"No need to insult me, sir."

"So, when can I meet her? Perhaps, we can make it a foursome with you, me, Siwan and – By the way, what's the name of this wonder woman?"

"Captain, we should probably retrieve Jack and return to the Academy." Spock rose from his seat. "As you know, we are conducting a major symposium this afternoon and there are details I have yet to attend to."

"Of course, I've heard of the symposium. Talk is that it is the hottest ticket in town." Pike signaled to his son to come with them.

As they begin to walk briskly toward campus, Spock commented. "The hottest ticket in town, sir? We never gave the impression there would be an admission charged to attend the event."

Pike gave Spock the _don't give me that shit_ look. "What's her name, Spock?"

"Who's name?"

"The woman we've been talking about."

"What woman?" Jack asked.

"I am speaking to Mr. Spock, son."

"What woman is he talking about, Mr. Spock?"

"I am waiting for more information from your father to provide a more precise response."

"He needs more information, Dad."

"Oh, I believe he has quite enough."

"To do what?" Jack asked.

Smoldering, Pike tried to check his growing frustration. "Jack, this is a conversation between me and Mr. Spock."

"I thought you already had a chance to talk, while I was watching Sonya make the donuts."

Spock asked, "Did you enjoy her demonstration?"

"It was actually pretty cool watching her drop the batter in hot oil and seeing it cook and all. She said a replicator can't get it right."

"That might be an experiment you might want to conduct to test her hypothesis."

"A taste test? Cool beans, Mr. Spock. We'd need to think about how to deal with the indirect stimulation . . ."

"Indirect stimuli." Spock corrected him.

"Oh yeah, we need to think about how to deal with the indirect stimuli so the results of our experiment will be more real."

"_Accurate_ would be a better word choice." Spock corrected him, again. "Unless fabricated, any results would be _real._ The goal of any well-designed experiment should be to provide _accurate_ results."

"Right. I think I understand that now. Thanks, Mr. Spock."

The trio enjoyed each other's company in silence until they reached campus and Pike's home in family housing.

Jack asked his father, "Do you still have time to take me to school?"

"Sure. Hurry up and get your backpack."

"OK." The boy started to go into the house, then turned back. "Oh yeah, Mr. Spock. Don't forget to answer Dad's question."

"Jack. You need to focus on getting ready for school instead of adult issues."

"All right. See ya, Mr. Spock."

"May your scholastic studies bring you enlightenment."

A bemused Jack headed into the house, while a grin appeared across Pike's face. _There was no one like Spock._

Turning to his friend, the Captain told him. "It's all right, Spock. You don't have to answer my question. If you don't want to tell me the identity of the woman, then I probably shouldn't know. You're a good man, Spock, and I believe if you truly care about this woman - you both will find a way to work it out."

"Yes." Spock simply told him.

"I'm glad you agree with me."

"Yes, I'll take on the responsibility as Jack's guardian, if the situation is warranted."

For a moment, his answer caught Pike off-guard. He wanted to embrace his friend, but he knew that would be too demonstrative for this Vulcan male.

So, the Captain and his first officer stood across from each other. Pike reached across the space that separated them and placed his hand on his friend's shoulder.

**Author's Notes: **

The next chapter definitely contains Uhura and Spock's first kiss. The first draft is written. After I proofread it, it will be posted.

Your comments are always welcome.

i See Chapter 37.


	39. Chapter 39 First Kiss

**Author's Note:** Chapter 39 is the second part of an episode that began with Chapter 38 and occurs during Uhura's third year as a Starfleet cadet. The chapter features Uhura, Spock, Captain Christopher Pike, James T. Kirk and Diarmuid. And, yes – it does include the long-awaited first kiss scene between Uhura and Spock (FINALLY!).

Much of the last section of the chapter takes place at the House of Diarmuid, which was first introduced with backstory in Chapter 8.

Also, the author utilizes the lyrics to "Falling Slowly" by Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova. The author does not own these lyrics or claim some other writer in another FanFiction story has not used these words. She simply has no knowledge/remembrance of seeing it used in this manner and had no intention of appropriating someone else's idea if the lyrics have already been used.

Your comments are always welcome.

After the early morning incident with Spock, Uhura was glad she did not have any time to think about it. With iTablet in hand, she focused her energies on managing the volunteers she recruited, including Kirk, Gaila, Jordan, McCoy, Theresa, Damitra, and Ensign Tan. It took them 45 minutes longer to set-up than she had planned; however, she had scheduled extra time on her logistics itinerary in case such an issue arose.

At 2:15 PM, she sent the volunteers off to change from work to dress uniforms. When all returned in 20 minutes with the exception of her roommate, Uhura realized she should have scheduled a full hour for the Orion. However, with another group of ten volunteers arriving, she reasoned she had enough personnel to cover for Gaila until she was ready.

After providing each volunteer with a recyclable communicator and reviewing instructions, the East African placed volunteers in their positions as greeters, registration staff and ushers at their assigned stations. Uhura quickly changed into her dress uniform and then carefully observed the operation of each station as the first wave of renowned guests from the Federation and scientific communities began to arrive.

At 3:10 PM, Spock – who was to serve as the symposium moderator - entered a small conference room where he had been instructed by Uhura to wait along with others for her briefing. Within minutes, the four panelists joined him: Research Team Leader Peja Slovich and two of his teammates, Lisa Carter and Ahmad Sahoubah. The distinguished Andorian scientist Keval ch'Moran represented the fourth panelist who was to provide commentary on the team's methodology and latest results.

At 3:15 PM, Spock watched as Uhura came in armed with five iTablets and a set of wireless mics. After distributing the iTablets, she reviewed the agenda and the role of each participant.

She advised, "The iTablet's will serve as my primary method of communication with you concerning the status of your speaking time. You will receive a 5, 2 and 1 minute warning. If you try to continue to speak after your time has expired, the moderator has the option of terminating your audio." Then she added with a bit of playful grin. "However, I am hopeful you will not test Mr. Spock's resolve to keep the program within the predetermined 90 minute."

Two research team members openly laughed at Uhura's comment, while Spock stayed steadfast to his mask of indifference.

The East African then spent time with each person to affix a mic and give instruction on its use.

"It's activated by touch. You'll save yourself embarrassment if you'll remember it is red when deactivated and green when activated."

When she came to the Vulcan, Uhura asked him. "May I place this on you, sir? If you would prefer to place the mic yourself, you may do so."

Uhura held the small, oval mic before him on the tip of her index finger.

"You may attach it, Ms. Uhura."

She removed the thin covering on the mic's back to expose an adhesive. Uhura then lightly pressed the mic on his right shoulder.

"Did you get a chance to look over the moderator's script, sir? I received no comment from you on it all day."

"I found it acceptable."

"You'll find that I placed a copy of it on your iTablet so you can easily refer to it when necessary."

"There will be no need to do so. I have committed it to memory."

"Mr. Spock, the script was nearly 15 pages in length."

"Sixteen pages if you include the acknowledgements."

"Just when did you have time to do that, sir? In between changing your socks?" She said in disbelief.

"Ms. Uhura, there was no need to change my socks since the hue of the Academy faculty trousers is not appreciably different than the color of the dress uniform pants. And as for the memorization of the script, is that such a remarkable feat. After all, it certainly was not Shakespeare."

Uhura gave him _I know you didn't just say what I think you said_ look, before she told him, "Ten minutes, Mr. Spock."

At 3:55 PM, Uhura had Spock and panelists enter the Charles "Tripp" Tucker III Conference Room to a standing room only audience of 200+. The panelists took their seats at an oblong table, while Spock stood behind a podium.

The East African instructed them, "Please leave the iTablets on the speakers table following the program. You will notice I've also provided a small envelope for your mics."

She then conducted a final sound check before giving the Vulcan a countdown via the iTablet to initiate the symposium exactly at 4:00 PM.

After taking up a place in the back of the large room, she monitored the proceedings. Uhura knew she should not have been surprised, but she marveled at how Mr. Spock effortlessly conducted the program drawing upon memorized portions of the script. He only deviated from the obligatory sections of the text to substitute word choices he deemed more suitable to the occasion.

_Typical Spock_. Uhura thought.

After the first panelist began to speak, she began sending notes to her volunteers to remind them of their assignments for the reception which was to follow in the indoor arboretum. She also took the time to send Kirk a private message.

"Stop trying to hit on the guests."

"Just trying to make them feel welcome. Wasn't that one of your instructions?" He replied.

"Let me add another one for you – KEEP YOUR DICK IN YOUR PANTS!"

Although Uhura sent time management messages to each panelist, it became unnecessary, as Spock only had to give one of his imposing looks toward the speaker for that person to know when to begin to wrap up their comments. Later, during the question and answer period, the Vulcan kept the session lively by interrupting long-winded inquiries and rephrasing poorly constructed questions into ones that were much more direct and constructive.

At 5:17 PM, Kirk found Uhura and stood next to her.

"Why aren't you at your station?" She whispered. "The symposium will be over in less than 15 minutes."

He whispered with feigned slavish submission, "Mistress, I came to you to offer my pants for your inspection."

Uhura gave Kirk a sharp poke in the ribs to which he responded with a light mischievous laugh.

At 5:25 PM, she signaled Spock to close the symposium with acknowledgments after the current speaker concluded his response to the final allowed query.

At 5:27 PM, as directed Spock initially drew upon the script with a few modifications. As timed, the program would have ended promptly as scheduled at 5:30 PM. However, Spock added a statement that unexpectedly delayed its conclusion.

"As we bring these proceedings to an end, I must call the audience's attention to one grievous error in the program which has gone unchecked until now. I am well aware of the perpetrator of this unfortunate oversight and will later personally address the matter more fully, I assure you."

Uhura could not help to feel the sting of the slight. _An grievous error in the program? What is he talking about?_ _And why is he calling attention to it in front of all of these people!_

The East African ears burned making it difficult for her to hear his next words. However, knowing she still had to direct activities connected to the reception, Uhura took a breath to calm herself and heard his voice, again.

"As the Head of the Academy's Physical Science Department, the operation of all activities and events – including this one – are ultimately my responsibility. However, in the printed program there is no acknowledgment of the one person who conceived and managed this exceptional forum that will serve to not only greatly enhance the progress of this particular research project as intended, but advance future opportunities for intellectual discourse on this campus. Let us not allow this omission to stand unaddressed. Cadet Uhura, will you please come to the front to receive our expression of appreciation for your worthy efforts."

As the applause began, the shocked East African stood immobile. Then she heard Kirk's playful voice in her ear. "Come on, Uhura, stop milking the applause and get your ass moving or we'll be here all night!"

As she made her way down the aisle to the front of the room, Ensign Slovich and the other panelists began a standing ovation quickly joined by audience members. Upon reaching the front, she chose not to look toward the Vulcan for fear she would not keep her composure. Instead, Uhura turned to the audience and nodded humbly before raising her arms to quiet them. Activating her mic, she told them, "Thank you for your generous applause. Of course, I ask your equal kind regards for our team of volunteers, without whom this program would not have been a success."

Uhura waited for the applause to die down, before adding. "We now look forward to you joining us in the Ansel Adams Arboretum for a reception we have prepared especially for you." The seemingly experienced hostess warmly remarked. "Please do not even think about leaving without taking the time for what surely will be more stimulating conversation and refreshment prepared especially for you."

In the Arboretum, Uhura oversaw the reception with the same care and professionalism she had shown with the previous components of the event. An hour into the reception, conversation, food and drink still flowed strong as the attendees now formed clusters based on Federation rank or status in the scientific community. Of the group that gravitated to Spock, only Pike was not an esteemed scientist. However, the Vulcan had requested his presence beside him as his superior officer, but Pike accepted Spock's request as his friend.

At 6:58 PM, as unobtrusively as possible, Uhura interrupted the group to inform the Vulcan researcher Dr. Tevek that his SkyCab awaited him. As she departed, Spock noticed how the Tellarite biophysicist Kel gesch Torg openly ogled her. As Tevek made his parting comments, others also began to do so as they realized the time of the reception was drawing to its planned end.

While most of the guests congratulated Spock on the event or suggested future topics for like symposiums, the Tellarite had another matter on his mind. "Wherever did you find _that_?" He snorted and nodded toward Uhura, now giving final instructions to her volunteers.

"To whom are you referring?" Spock asked pointedly. "There is more than one person in the vicinity of the direction you are indicating."

The pig-like man snorted as he lasciviously commented. "The black beauty over there. The contour and wide shape of her nostrils is quite exceptional for a human." Unabashedly aroused, he snorted twice and added. "What would it take to arrange a _cultural exchange_ for _that_ to service my needs for a while?"

Offended by his sexist comments, Pike began to admonish Torg, but someone else quickly took up the cause. "Professor gesch Torg, are you aware you are on the grounds of a Federation Academy and not a front for a brothel which would stoop to service the likes of you?"

"Surely you have had your fill of her by now. Pass her on Spock so the rest of us can have a taste. I can only imagine the flaring of her nostrils when I – "

In a flash of anger so intense, Pike hardly recognized Spock towering over the Tellarite with a menacing glare. The Vulcan's cold tone revealed his unmitigated resolution. "If you dare to speak of her or turn your eyes in her direction, again, you will need to deal with me. If that unfortunate circumstance presents itself, I promise you no words will be used in our meeting."

"Vulcan, you cannot threaten me."

"What gives you the impression this is a threat?"

The Tellarite paused a few seconds, but could not endure the Vulcan's white heat and hurriedly left his presence.

Suddenly realizing, Pike looked to Spock who had removed his warrior's mask and returned to his usual poker face. "Why do I suddenly feel like the village idiot?"

"Sir?

"Cadet Uhura . . . You're in love with Cadet Uhura, aren't you?"

"I do not believe you would like me to answer that, sir."

"Well, mister, if anything happens where I will need to get involved, our friendship cannot act as a shield."

"Understood, Captain."

Pike looked skeptically toward the Vulcan. _You understand all right, but you're willing to take the risk. _He knew the Spock needed no guidance when it came to sex. He did not doubt he could learn a thing or two from the Vulcan on how to sexually please women. But, _love _was another matter that could be as strong as it could be fragile.

The Captain spoke the only words of advise he could give. "Be careful, my friend."

At 8:43 PM, Gaila came out of the bathroom dressed in her underwear and started putting on civilian clothes she had placed on a desk chair.

"Sure you don't want to come out with the gang, tonight." Gaila said to Uhura who was laid across a bed covered by a robe.

"I'm not really in the mood for the club scene."

"When are you ever in the mood for the club scene?"

"I guess I'll be ready for that meat market the day after hell freezes over."

"So soon?" The women shared a laugh.

Gaila continued. "Well, I'm not going to push you on it. I'm sure you're probably exhausted from all the work you did for the symposium. Great job, Uhura."

"You were with me most of the day helping out, too."

"I wasn't everywhere at once like you. And on top of that you didn't get much sleep last night. It was nice of Mr. Spock to mention you at the end of the program, but with everything you did he should at least take you to lunch or something." Now dressed, the Orion picked up her purse and jacket before taking one more look in the mirror. "See you, later."

As Gaila headed out the door, Uhura called her back. "Hey, roommate." The East African got off of her bed and met her by the door.

"Don't tell me you changed your mind."

"No, I just wanted to tell you something I've been wanting to say to you for quite some time." Uhura spoke in such a quiet, serious voice that Gaila drew close to her.

"Of course, Uhura what is it?"

Uhura paused, then moved her lips close to Gaila's ear. "Don't do anything, I wouldn't do."

Gaila backed away rolling her eyes at the laughing East African as she went out the door.

As soon as the door closed, Uhura hurriedly took off her robe revealing the civilian clothes she had put on while Gaila was in the bathroom. After putting on her socks and shoes, she looked in the mirror and took out and applied the only makeup she owned – a tube of lipstick she purchased three years ago.

She removed the pins from her hair to allow her tiny braids to fall to her shoulders. As she looked at her reflection, Uhura wondered what _he_ saw when he looked at her. _Does he think I'm pretty . . . Maybe, even attractive?_

A guy once told her she was _cute_. But, she didn't want to look _cute_ to him as if she was a little girl. Uhura wanted to feel like a woman, tonight. She wanted _him_ to see her that way.

The East African placed her small wallet in her jacket, which she put on as she left her room. Once out of the dorm, she checked her chronometer and quickened her steps. She then recalled every word of the message she received on her iTablet shortly after the reception ended earlier that evening:

_Meet me at the House of Diarmuid at 9:30 PM, tonight. Do not be late. Mr. Spock_

Remembering the Vulcan actually owned this teahouse, she laughed as she thought, _This is going to be a cheap date._

Arriving at the teahouse out of breath at 9:28 PM, Uhura took a moment to calm herself. _You shouldn't seem too anxious_. She told herself, but _she did want to see him_. As butterflies suddenly began to dance inside her, she decided she should better enter before changing her mind.

Upon entering the busy café-style teahouse, she heard what sounded like live music. Turning to her right, her eyes confirmed what she heard as four musicians and a vocalist were in the midst of performance.

Within the next moment, the teahouse manager, Diarmuid, met her.

"Hey there, Nyota. Just in the nick of time. Spock kept checking his chronometer as if the coach were going to turn back into a pumpkin any minute. Let me have your jacket, girl."

As she removed her jacket and handed it to him, Uhura asked, "I don't recall live music the last time I was here."

"On the weekends, we provide a space for a variety of genres and formats. Except we never do karoke. The boss absolutely hates karoke."

"Hates karoke." Uhura repeated as she thought about how often she had enjoyed participating in this form of entertainment. _Yet, another difference between Mr. Spock and me._

"Who do you have playing tonight?"

"Oh, you're in for treat, girl - musicians from the Emerald Isle! They'll be sampling some of the best contemporary as well as ancient rhythms from the likes of U2, Van Morrison, and The Frames."

"Wasn't the music from those groups popular during the late-20th and early-21st centuries?" She teased. "They certainly are going _way back_."

"Sure they are. The band is about to finish their first set, but they'll be back after a short break for the – "

Uhura suddenly saw what caused Diarmuid to stop midsentence.

Dressed in an ivory colored sweater and black slacks, the vertical ribbing of the sweater gave emphasis to his tall, lean frame as the Vulcan rose from his seat at a table across the room. While it often proved difficult to read anything more than indifference on Mr. Spock's face, this time she was sure he was not pleased.

The manager commented, "I was going to take you to him, since the table where he's at is kind of tucked away in an odd shaped part of the room that offers a little privacy. However, I guess you can't miss him now, can you? I'll be over there in a shake with your tea."

As she made her way to Spock, he intensely watched her every step. Upon arriving at the table, he offered an abrupt greeting.

"You are late, Ms. Uhura. Sit down."

"Good-evening, Mr. Spock." She countered as they both took their seats."I entered the teahouse at exactly 9:30 PM. Wasn't that the time you requested I meet you?"

"And what time is it now?"

The first retort which came to mind was, _Well, Mr. Spock, unless time stood still, I'm sure it's now after 9:30. _However, after checking her chronometer, she provided him with a more prudent response. "It's 9:34, sir."

"You were supposed to meet me at the appointed time, not arrive without a second to spare and proceed to waste even more time in what I am sure was a less than stimulating conversation with teahouse staff."

Uhura now wondered why the Vulcan had invited her there. She actually had fond memories of the time he first introduced her to this bohemian urban sanctuary. Previously, they also had dispensed with military formalities of rank and Academy affairs. Yet, thus far, Spock had given no indication they would follow that behavior, tonight.

"Sir, for what reason did you invite me here?"

"I wanted to speak with you about the symposium."

It was not the answer she wanted to hear. "The symposium, sir? Couldn't that discussion wait until I report back for work on Monday?"

"Are you adverse to learning, Ms. Uhura?"

"Of course, not, sir, but – " She realized there was no point in completing her conjunction as the Vulcan appeared firm in his resolve. She reasoned, _I might as well get over with it now, instead of waiting until Monday. _"Please proceed, sir."

"It concerns your neglect to cite your role as the Project Manager of the symposium."

"Yes, Mr. Spock. I'm sorry I didn't have a chance to thank you earlier. It was very generous of you to call attention to my work. However, all of the attention was almost a bit embarrassing."

"Ms. Uhura." The Vulcan told her sternly. "Humility has no place in the Academy for someone aspiring to be a Starfleet officer. I can assure you no one rises to prime positions on just merit alone. You have got to become much more politically astute if you want to do more than just get by. I never quite understood why fewer women of your species tend not to understand this tenet than men."

Uhura could not refute the validity of his statements. A former undergraduate female professor once advised Uhura to beware not to fall into the role of the _helper_ in which one expends great energies in support of someone else's agenda without making sure to find ways to exploit the activity for her own advancement.

Spock continued. "I blame myself for neglecting my role as your mentor, while I serve as your immediate supervisor. However, you have got to learn to take ownership of your own career and seize upon opportunities to move it forward whenever possible. Do I make myself clear, Ms. Uhura?"

"Yes, sir." She had not expected a lesson this evening and her ego felt a bit bruised. Yet, Uhura's competitive instincts knew not to take this advice lightly. With firm conviction, she looked directly to him and said, "Mr. Spock, I will not fail to apply this lesson the next time the opportunity arises. Also, in the future, I would appreciate any other advice I can garner from you in matters concerning my Starfleet career."

"I will do so." Class was not yet over as the Vulcan sternly advised her. "There is one other morsel for this evening. You must take the initiative to evaluate all of your relationships with officers, faculty and peers and become cognizant how you can leverage those associations to your benefit for present or future endeavors. Every leader understands this principle."

"It sounds so impersonal . . . so businesslike."

"Is Starfleet not your business, Ms. Uhura? Did you not willing decide to serve?"

"Yes, sir."

"As for your approach to these relationships, you must find the style which works best for you. There is more than one way to provide effective leadership. I trust none of the peers who comprised your volunteer staff would have termed your direction as detached. Yet, you successfully marshaled your resources and engaged your personnel in ways that produced optimum results."

Diarmuid now stood by their table with a tray bearing a teapot, spoon, Oolong tea leaves in a brown paper holder, two cups and a small kettle filled with water. He began to transfer the items to the table and took care to set the kettle on top of a heating element he had turned on.

"Thank you, sir. I believe I understand."

"Nyota." Diarmuid admonished her. "Didn't you learn anything while you were here the last time? What is House Rule #1?"

She recalled. "No formalities."

"And House Rule #2?"

"No talking shop."

"Ahhhh – so you do remember. Then why are we back to square one? I know this pointy-eared devil lacks any sense, but I thought you knew better."

Uhura did not like it when Diarmuid called Spock derogatory names, but she knew the Vulcan could handle himself.

"Diarmuid." Spock stated coolly. "There are other tables which demand your attention."

"You got a pretty girl at your table and you're still playing soldier. And it's the second time you brought her here, so that's progress. No slam bam thank you ma'am with this one."

Spock warned his employee. "This is not a good time to look for other work."

"That'll be the day." Diarmuid mumbled as he snatched up his empty tray and left their table.

When Spock turned his attention back to Uhura, her eyes were cast down. For the East African, Diarmuid's crude comment did not cause her to feel unease about Spock's sexual activities. She had long dismissed any unrealistic notions he abstained from such carnal pleasures. However, the Irishman's remark did call attention to her own lack of sexual experience that evoked new insecurities about her desirability. _That's probably why we've been talking about my Starfleet career, instead of – _

"Ms. Uhura?" The Vulcan interrupted her thoughts.

Feeling foolish and immature, her words came rushing out of her mouth. "I'm sorry, Mr. Spock, for acting like a child. Your sexual habits are of no concern of mine."

One of Spock's eyebrows quickly peaked. "My sexual habits?"

Still speaking rapidly, she added. "I mean you are a man and I know what men do. Not that women don't do it, too. Of course, they do it, because if they didn't who would the man be with . . . unless the man is gay or bi or doesn't really care or – " Uhura felt her face go flush with embarrassment. Standing up abruptly, she told him. "Long day. Probably should be heading back to my room."

Spock rose from his seat, but she continued. "If you don't mind, let's pick up the discussion on Monday about the sex . . . I mean, career strategies . . . Good-night."

"Nyota. Please don't go."

Spock realized he had overplayed his hand from the moment she arrived.

_How could I tell her?_

_How could I tell her I couldn't wait until Monday to be with her?_

_How could I tell her of the anger I felt for each moment she delayed coming to my table that should have rightly been spent with me?_

_How could I tell her all that I have carried in my heart for her that I have not found the words to reveal?_

"Nyota." He repeated. "Please don't go."

The East African had heard his words, but it was not enough to calm her own fears. And so she asked, "What do you want from me, Mr. Spock?"

And the Vulcan gave the only reason he could voice, "The water in the teapot has now reached a rolling boil. It is ready to be served."

The Vulcan watched helplessly as a single tear rolled down Uhura's face. She felt an impulse to play the cliché and run out the door, but it was finally the music that impeded her departure. And when the vocalist sang the lyrics of this 21st century song, she knew she could not leave him.

_I don't know you  
But I want you  
All the more for that_

Uhura felt her chair beneath her, again, and a grateful Spock held her with his eyes.

_Words fall through me  
And always fool me  
And I can't react  
And games that never amount  
To more than they're meant  
Will play themselves out  
_

He added Oolong tea leaves and boiling water into the teapot. He used the pot's lid to gently push away the white floating bubbles. Then, he covered the pot and allowed the tea to steep.

_Take this sinking boat and point it home  
We've still got time  
Raise your hopeful voice you have a choice  
You've made it now_

He warmed the cups.

_Falling slowly, eyes that know me  
And I can't go back  
Moods that take me and erase me  
And I'm painted black  
You have suffered enough  
And warred with yourself  
It's time that you won_

He lifted the teapot's lid and was pleased with the liquid's deep, amber color. He poured the tea, making sure she received the last drops for the richest flavor.

_Take this sinking boat and point it home  
We've still got time  
Raise your hopeful voice you have a choice  
You've made it now  
Falling slowly sing your melody  
I'll sing it loud_

"Let me watch." She said with her voice barely above a whisper.

He could not refuse her.

Taking up the cup, he held it to his nose. His chest rising up . . . and down . . . and up . . . and down as he savored the aroma.

Bringing the cup to his mouth, he closed his eyes and parted his lips just enough to allow the sweet, hot beverage to cross the threshold to gently caress his tongue.

And then, when he could hold back no more, he let this wondrous liquid slide down his throat to awaken sensual pleasure in him . . . and the one who vicariously shared _his _enjoyment through her eyes.

"Nyota." He whispered. "Nyota, let me taste you."

And, she knew she could not refuse him.

_Her lips . . . _

_Her warm lips . . . _

_Hungered for his . . ._

_Lips . . ._

_Her soft, fleshy lips . . ._

_Wanting to touch his . . ._

_Lips . . . _

_And for the first time she welcomed erotic desire into her soul._

_Her lips . . . _

_Needing to . . . feel . . . his . . . _

_Yes . . . just like that . . ._

_Oh, yes . . . just like that _

_His lips touching her . . ._

_Lips . . ._

_Again._

_And again._

_And again._

This woman . . .

"I love you, Spock."

This man . . .

"I know you do."

"Say it, Spock."

"Has it not already been said?"

"I said it, but I have yet to hear from you."

"One more taste."

"Not until you say it."

"Extortion, Nyota? How could those words you want to hear take on any semblance of sincerity under those circumstances?"

"Spock!" As she threw up her hands in mock annoyance, the Vulcan caught sight of the jagged scar on her right palm.

When she realized what had caught his eye, it was too late. A somber seriousness replaced the playfulness, as he took her hand and lay it down on the table palm up.

She began to pull back her hand, but he would not let her withdraw it.

"Spock, please." She pleaded, but he would not listen.

Then . . .

With his index finger he traced the remnants of the wound she endured when she fought off her attacker.

And . . .

He brought his lips to the once offending mark . . . and kissed it tenderly . . .

For now . . . that was all he needed to say.

**Author's Notes: **

The next chapters delve into how Uhura and Spock attempt to "manage" their relationship amidst their Starfleet responsibilities and aspirations.

Your comments are always welcome.


	40. Chapter 40 Time

**Author's Note:** Chapter 40 begins a new post-first kiss episode that occurs during Uhura's third year as a Starfleet cadet. The chapter features Spock, T'Lau, Uhura and her friend, Shaniqua.

Your comments are always welcome.

Two days before Christmas, Uhura happily lounged on a couch with Shaniqua Paulette Washington in her friend's small Manhattan apartment. Dressed in their pajamas, they shared a large bowl of popcorn and a bottle of Chardonnay as they caught up on each other's lives.

"After performing in a matinee earlier this afternoon and facing a full schedule of shows for the rest of the holiday week, are you sure this is the way you want to spend your one night off from the theatre this week?" Uhura asked.

"Fine time to ask me that after you've flown all the way here from San Francisco." She laughed. "What am I supposed to do, Nyota? Tell you to put your clothes back on and return to Starfleet Academy?"

"What would my Nyanya say if I didn't try to make a fuss about staying in your home? She would tell me – 'Mjukuu, have you been away from your people for so long you've forgotten what we have taught you?"

"With a clear conscience you can now tell your grandmother you have dutifully carried out your charge as a guest to act as though you're concerned about being an imposition. Now you can stop the pretense and just enjoy yourself, rafiki yangu.1"

Uhura took in the joy of her friend as Shaniqua's green eyes sparkled before her. "Rafiki yangu! Vema, Shaniqua.2"

"Asante.3"

"You've been studying Swahili?"

"A few phrases when I get the chance. We're still on for our trip to the Motherland next summer, aren't we? That is, unless you think you'll be busy with your Vulcan lover."

Physically, Shaniqua's facial features, olive complexion, and sandy brown hair had more in common with Africans of European descent than the indigenous population of Uhura's homeland. However, Uhura had come to know this Detroit-native native as genuinely proud of her Black African roots. Unlike the younger chauvinistic East African, the more mature Uhura encouraged her friend to further explore this part of her heritage.

"I wouldn't miss taking you for a taste of my homeland." Uhura answered. "We'll only have 10 days before I'm supposed to go on a more extensive deep space training next summer. But I promise you will experience much my country has to offer."

"Siwezi kusubiri.4" She said proudly, and then added. "OK, I've now exhausted all the Swahili I know. So, tell me more about this Speck guy."

"His name is Spock." She corrected her. "And, as for your comment concerning my _Vulcan lover_, I wouldn't say that quite describes my relationship with Spock, yet. It's not like what you and Jacob have going on."

"I hope not, because what Jacob and I have going on is sheer insanity. I don't know why I ever fell in love with a Canadian who makes his living as a dilithium mining engineer. Like he is now, my man is off-planet often for long stretches of time. I'm just glad I've been working in film and on the stage as much as I have lately to keep my mind off of what I'm missing."

"Well, I think you can also categorize my relationship with Spock under the crazy love heading."

"I recall in your last communication to me – which was over _two weeks ago_ – you told me you were making out with this Vulcan at some teahouse he owns." Shaniqua added teasingly. "I would have paid admission to see that."

"First of all, my last communication was not two weeks ago. Somebody's inbox seems always to be full so my messages keep bouncing back to me. Remember, I had to call your communicator to double check plans for my visit."

"OK – guilty as charged."

"And, I wasn't making out."

"Sounds like revisionist history to me."

"Our table was in this odd shaped area of the teahouse where the wall jutted out a bit and obscured us from view of others."

"Sounds like you and this Vulcan were putting on a show."

"Few probably could see us and I doubt if they did I doubt if anyone in that place would care. There were only a few kisses." Her voice recalled the sensuous pleasure of the moment. "Spock . . . he also touched his lips to the palm of my hand."

"Mmmmmmm, Nyota. Tell me more."

"There's not much more to tell about that evening. We shared a pot of tea. Talked. He walked me to my dorm. We couldn't take the chance of displaying any signs of affection on campus. So, we just parted with a simple 'goodnight.'"

"Did you check to see if an image of the two of you at the teahouse was uploaded to StarBook, MyGalaxy, or another one of those social media sites?"

"Spock told me when he opened the teahouse he wanted it to be a place of sanctuary. So he installed an electromagnetic field that interferes with the use of communication and other digitalized devices."

"Who would even think to do that?"

"That's Spock. He's like no other man I've ever met. He's brilliant, driven, witty, and definitely _easy on the eyes_."

"You forgot to add that he can walk on water."

Uhura leaned back against a pillow on the couch and took another sip of wine. "No. I wouldn't add that statement to his resume."

Intrigued, Shaniqua asked. "What do you mean by that?"

"It's similar to what happened in that musical you were in four or five years ago. You know, the one that took place at a fair."

"You mean, _Carnival_?"

"Right."

"Really? You know how much I hated playing the lead character, Lili. In post-WWII France, you have this seemingly innocent orphan girl with no talents who finds work at a carnival as part of a puppet act. She is so _clueless_ that she falls in love with the puppets even though their master is a man she detests. The puppet master is controlling, manipulative and treats Lili worse and worse as he supposedly falls more deeply in love with her. In the end, despite his cruelty, Lili realizes she's actually in love with the puppeteer and they _live happily ever after_." Shaniqua huffed as she added. "Pleeeeeeeeeeeease! Now, you know some man had to write that."

Uhura made no immediate response.

"Oh, Nyota!" Her friend gasped. "Is that the way that Spock guy treats you? I don't like that. I don't like that at all."

"Settle down, girl. I'm certainly not Lili. I know who I am as well as my worth and none of that depends on any man."

"Well, that's a relief to hear you say it."

"As for Spock, I would not say he has ever been cruel to me. However, there are times he can be self-absorbed and shields from me what he is actually feeling. I have begun to read a few _tells_ in gesture, posture or a slight change in tone he may display from time to time. But, it can still be so damn frustrating when he can't convey his emotions more directly."

"Yeah, I can see why that would be aggravating with dealing with any man. But to be honest, Nyota, I didn't know Vulcans experienced emotions like humans. From my stage experience, if they're in the audience there might its as good as having empty seats, because you can never get a sense if they're enjoying the show or not. I'm sorry, Nyota. I guess my attitude just shows my ignorance about them."

"You don't need to apologize to me. I'm trying to learn more about this species, but there's a lot about about Vulcans traditions and behavior I don't understand. And, there are aspects of Spock's conduct which I'm not sure one can simply ascribe to his heritage."

"Like what?"

"He's definitely an Alpha Male."

Shaquita barked teasingly.

"Now don't get me wrong." Uhura continued. "I'm attracted to confident, intelligent, and fearless men who don't feel they need to gain validation from others as a measure of their own self-worth. However, there are times Spock can be domineering to the point of paternalism."

"What about sex? Has the physical side of the relationship gone further than kissing?"

"Spock is a faculty member as well as my superior officer and supervisor. Any sexual involvement is strictly prohibited between those of such disparate ranks."

"That's not what I asked you."

"I'm still a virgin if that what you want to know."

"Are you protected?"

"As part of one's annual physical at the Academy, you are given the option of taking a birth control injection. I've taken it each year even though I haven't been involved with anyone in a serious way . . . that is, before Spock."

"Getting pregnant shouldn't be your only concern. Have you asked him about his sexual history?"

"I told you we're not having sex."

"Nyota, there's a lot of options in between kissing and f**king. I'm just curious as to how far this has gone. Or, are Vulcans not into sex except to procreate."

"Well, I can't say I'm an authority on the sexual habits of all Vulcans." Uhura took another sip of wine.

"We're talking about your experience with this particular Vulcan."

"Oh."

"Oh – what?"

"Just . . . oh."

Having lost her patience with her friend, she exclaimed. "Look, Nyota, if you don't want to talk about it just tell me."

"That's not it at all. I want to talk about it, but this is all new to me. You should know what I mean, don't you Shaniqua?"

After a few moments, her friend nodded her head in agreement. "Before Jacob, I can count on one hand the number of times I went all the way. So, yeah girl, I know what you mean. If you still want to talk about it, I'm not going anywhere."

Silence.

Then, Uhura drained her glass and leaned back against a couch pillow once more with a naughty grin on her face. She then confessed, "Spock . . . has very gifted hands."

Shaniqua quickly refilled Uhura's glass. "All right. Out with it. You're not going to leave me hanging with that line."

Uhura hesitated, and then told her. "All right. But you know me and stories. It'll take me a while to get to the relevant part."

"I told you I've got nothing but time, tonight." Shaniqua answered. "Now get on with it."

In Spock's office, Uhura typed in suggestions for corrections in the margins of the student's paper and reread her comments before closing the file. Just as she began to upload the next paper to her computer, a tall, slim and attractive Vulcan woman entered the room.

Grateful for the interruption, the cadet stood up to greet her. Although it was rare for a non-Starfleet visitor to come to Spock's office, Uhura noted the woman bore a VIP credentials badge. "Good afternoon, ma'am. May I help you?"

"Identify yourself." She said tersely.

Although taken aback by her curt demand, the she answered. "I am Cadet Uhura, Mr. Spock's Course Assistant."

"This is Mr. Spock's office, is it not?"

"Yes, ma'am. However, he does not hold office hours on Thursdays. If you would like me to set an appointment with him, I would be glad to do so."

"I do not require you to do so."

The woman scanned the room with her eyes and then moved toward Spock's desk. Uhura quickly moved to counter the woman's advance.

"Is this Mr. Spock's workstation?" She inquired.

"Yes, ma'am." The East African sternly addressed her. "However, I cannot allow you to disturb it. I am trying not to be rude; however, if I cannot make an appointment for you, then I must ask you to -"

"T'Lau." Spock's voice interrupted Uhura. He stood at the door of the office wearing his usual dispassionate face. "I am here."

"I left two messages on your communicator, but they were not returned." The Vulcan woman commented.

"One of my current research projects occupied my time for most of the day. With the exception of emergencies, I do not allow any disturbances when I am so engaged. Did Cadet Uhura not have the opportunity to inform you of my whereabouts?"

"Sir, I did inform this woman you weren't available on Thursdays." Uhura spoke up. "I didn't know you had a meeting scheduled with her. I didn't recall seeing any appointments on your calendar for today."

"Ms. T'Lau is one of the Project Managers for the construction of the StarShip Enterprise. The firm she represents won the contract for the engine room. Since I serve on the Oversight Committee for this venture, we have consulted on certain aspects of the design."

T'Lau offered, "Your assistant and I did not take the time for the niceties of typical human introductions. I take responsibility for not following this protocol. Perhaps, it would have made a difference in my treatment by your staff."

Uhura bit her lip in an effort not to respond to her in kind before she turned to Spock and told him, "If your will excuse me, sir, I have several more papers to correct." The Cadet moved back to her position at her station and resumed her work.

Spock studied T'Lau for a few moments before he spoke to her. "I was not aware you were going to be in San Francisco, today. You usually send your schedule in advance."

"Last evening, at an unfortunate hour in my living quarters in Germany, I received a request from Admiral Pok's office to provide a scale model presentation of our work to a group of United Earth politicians that would be visiting Starfleet headquarters, today. Upon arriving in the city and meeting with one of the Admiral's aides, it soon became apparent I was merely to serve as the entertainment for this occasion irrespective of the fact our firm is in the critical testing phase of our matter/antimatter reaction chamber before final installation on the ship. I think I will never get used to such human nonsensical behavior."

"Knowing the dubious intellectual curiosity of most politicians, I am sure they were as thrilled to hear your ruminations on antimatter converter assembly as you were to be there. Using a Terran expression, I would call it a wash for both sides."

Spock's comment caused Uhura to look up from her work. He had insulted the visitor, but she did not appear cognizant of the slight.

"Strangely, my engagement ended 27 minutes, 36 seconds early when none of the audience members took advantage of the time I had built into the presentation for questions."

"Yet, another lost opportunity for mutual gratification."

Uhura tried to refocus her attention on her computer screen, but found it difficult not to continue listening to the one-sided verbal joust.

"Of course, I am able to bill Starfleet for my time, but how does one calculate the real cost of such an unproductive and pointless exercise."

"You could add tedium to your list of complaints. It comes to mind just by listening to your account."

"Indeed." She added. "The experience was truly mind-numbing."

"I am sure you are anxious to return to Germany to recommence your work."

"This is true. However, my flight does not leave for another 3 hours, 42 minutes. In order to salvage the day engaged in a more worthwhile pursuit, I thought this might be the opportune time to visit your office and tour the Academy Science facility since I have not previously been able to do so. After the tour, perhaps, we could have dinner and then discuss the preliminary results of our reaction chamber testing in detail."

Uhura feigned looking at her computer screen and held her breath waiting for his reply. It had been nearly a week since they were able to find time in their schedules to arrange for their next date. Not fully knowing the extent of Spock's relationship with this woman, she feared he might decide to accept T'Lau's invitation at her expense.

To the East African, it seemed to take _forever, _before she finally heard Spock's response. However, his words pleased her.

"While such a proposal is inviting, it is nonetheless unexpected. I have other plans for this evening which cannot be altered."

Out of the corner of her eye, Uhura could see the woman look her way then back to Spock. _Why had she made such a gesture? _Uhura wondered. _Did this woman suspect Spock's plans included me or was she simply trying to tell whether I was listening?_

"I suppose I have lived among humans so long I have allowed an impulse to guide my behavior, instead of making appropriate arrangements. I will need to be mindful not to give into such a compulsion, again."

"Shall I arrange for an escort to take you to the Visitor's Entrance to secure transportation to the SkyPort."

"I believe I can find my way with little difficulty." She raised her hand in the Vulcan salute. "Spock, live long and prosper."

Spock returned her gesture. "Live long and prosper, T'Lau." He watched as the door closed behind her and took his place at his workstation. Looking toward him, she saw him checking his inbox for messages.

Uhura closed her eyes and focused on clearing her thoughts of what had just transpired. After all, Uhura and Spock had agreed they had to separate their professional and personal lives as much as possible to avoid slips concerning their relationship. The Cadet knew of the two she would have the more difficult time of reigning in her emotions. Thus, she comforted herself with the knowledge there would be time to speak of these events later that evening.

Uhura felt as though she was always on the run. Knowing was already late for her rendezvous with Spock, she quickened her pace as she neared the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art.

As the East African entered the building, she paused only briefly at the admissions desk to flash her Academy ID to gain free admission and thought, _Thank God, for small favors._ She ran up the stairs and down the hall to the exhibition gallery where he said he would meet her. Just as she came into the room, Uhura checked her chronometer, which confirmed her suspicions. _7:21 PM. Really late this time._

Uhura looked across the room and saw the unmistakable backside of Spock sitting stiffly on one of the benches. She took several calming breaths before moving toward him. She sat down on the bench behind him with her back facing his – careful not to touch his body.

Upon becoming conscious of her presence behind him, he asked, "Nyota, are you aware of the time?"

_How predictable. _She thought, before she replied."Yes, I am quite aware of the time."

"Do you have an explanation for you tardiness?"

"Do you have a reason for your obsession with punctuality?" She replied.

"Time is a scarce resource which should not be wasted. Every second that passes cannot be retrieved to be relived, again."

"If that is a Vulcan view, then you have much in common with humans of Terran Western civilization. The people of my homeland think of time much differently."

"Explain."

"Time is not something that is used up, but part of that which is experienced by the activities of one's life. For instance, when I am with a friend or involved in an activity I enjoy like singing or my linguistic work, the experience that flows from this is a product of the creative spirit, not one that consumes. In this context, time appears to be more profound . . . more meaningful than in those instances when we are merely following perfunctory routines."

It pleased her when Spock did not immediately respond to her statement. She reasoned, _Perhaps, my words struck a chord. _But then . . .

"An interesting concept; however, it still does not provide enlightenment on why this excuses your tardiness for our appointment."

"Spock, did you not listen to a word I just said?"

"I have heard your words, but your actual behavior is a different matter. You were never late for your service assignment. And, as a student in my ethics course, with the exception of the first class session you proved yourself quite capable of arriving well before the scheduled time. Do our social encounters not carry a comparable value of these professional duties to at least warrant similar conduct?"

Uhura waited until she was reasonably sure she could speak calmly. "After I completed grading the papers for your class, I left your office at 4:13 PM. As I made my way to a 4:30 PM Glee Club rehearsal, I barely eat my dinner that consisted of a tasteless energy bar. After rehearsal ended at 6:05 PM, I had just enough time to get to my room to change into my civilian clothes before catching the SkyBus to the museum. However, just as I was leaving, one of my friends came by to ask what she said was a quick question. Well, it didn't turn out that way and, consequently, I knew then I would be late for our date."

"Could you not have let this person know you had an appointment to keep?"

"Spock, people are important to me. I can't let a chronometer dictate how I will live my life."

"There is another consideration."

"Really." She said sharply, sure he would again prove an inability to understand her sentiments. "What possibly could that be?"

He paused as if not sure of the right words, but when Spock spoke there was no ambiguity in his meaning.

"I was concerned for your safety."

Silence.

"I'm sorry, Spock. I should have called. I would have expected you to do the same if the situation were reversed."

"That would be highly improbable."

This man made her laugh.

"Did I say something humorous?" He asked.

"No . . . no. I'm just expressing a feeling of joy."

"Joy?"

"Yes, Spock. It is an indication of the delight I feel by being with you."

"Laugh, again."

"I can't laugh on command, Spock. It's a spontaneous reaction. Surely, this is not the first time you have heard laughter."

"It is the first time I have heard your laughter, Nyota. The sound does pleasure me." He paused before he added, "The next time I hear such a melody, I will be sure to take it inside me with one breath. I will hold your joy within my being for as long as possible."

_His words . . . those words from her heart moved her so . . . time seemed to stand still._

Silence.

Noting their backs still turned to each other, the Vulcan asked, "Is there a reason why we are juxtaposed to each other in this manner?"

Once again finding her voice, she answered. "It was an experiment to even the playing field. Since I can rarely decipher your mood from your facial expression, I thought I would place you under a similar circumstance in regards to me."

"How do you think your test fared?"

"As the subject, Spock, it would probably be more fitting if you provided the analysis."

"In that case, I would say your experiment was a dismal failure."

Uhura thought, _Leave it to Spock to be painfully honest. _

He continued. "The human emotional state is conveyed by much more than facial expressions. Let me demonstrate."

_Suddenly, she felt . . ._

_Soft careses of his fingers moved across her hand she had placed beside herself . . ._

_So light . . ._

_So subtle_

_So delicate . . ._

_How could something so ethereal in nature cause me to . . ._

_One breath . . ._

_His back now gently pressing against hers . . . _

_So warm . . ._

_So muscular . . ._

_So strong . . ._

_How could someone so cerebral in character cause her to . . ._

_One breath . . ._

_Eyes closed . . . _

_Her body welcomed the heat . . ._

_His heat . . ._

_His passion . . ._

_With just the touch of his fingers . . . _

_He played his melody . . ._

_And with one breath . . . _

_She took him inside her . . ._

_And she held him there . . . _

_Until she heard him say – _

"Nyota, I can feel your desire for me crouching at the door. However, I will not have sex with you, tonight."

Trying to regain senses, her eyes opened wide shocked by his words. "What?"

"However, I believe the museum cafeteria may still be open and you can order something more nourishing than the energy bar you had earlier." He rose from his seat. "Shall we be on our way?"

Uhura found her feet, but not her willingness to continue their date. "Do you think I'm going to go along with you after that performance? Just what were you doing anyways?"

The Vulcan addressed her innocently, holding her with his eyes as he simply said, "I was creating time."

"Where in the hell do you think you're going?" Shaniqua exclaimed as she watched her friend move away.

"With all that wine I need a bathroom break."

"Are you really going to leave me on the edge like that? Did he explain the _I will not have sex with you, tonight_ line? And, what about that Vulcan woman? What was up with that? Did you ask Spock about her?"

"Calm down, girl." She advised her friend as she started to close the bathroom door. "I'll be out in a minute."

**Author's Notes: **

To be continued. Hopefully, I'll post this weekend.

Your comments are always welcome.

1 my friend

2 My friend! Well said, Shaniqua.

3 Thank you.

4 I cannot wait.


	41. Chapter 41 Now

**Author's Note:** Chapter 41 is the second part of a new post-first kiss episode that began with Chapter 40. Occurring during Uhura's third year as a Starfleet cadet, this chapter features Spock, Uhura and her friend, Shaniqua.

Your comments are always welcome.

In a Manhattan apartment, Uhura returned from the bathroom to take her place on the couch where her friend – Shaniqua - anxiously awaited her.

Upon Uhura's arrival, Shaniqua reported, "I've refilled your wine glass and stirred the popcorn bowl to pick up the remnants of the butter. I'm assuming you have taken care of all of your biological needs."

Uhura laughed.

"What's so funny?" The actress asked.

"Biological needs? Shaniqua you're sounding like Spock. I had to go pee and, yes, I took care of it."

"Sorry to be so pushy, Nyota, but I'm caught up in your story and don't want to deal with any more interruptions than necessary."

"If you want the full version, I don't know how much further I can go, tonight. There's a lot more to tell, but it's been a long day and I can feel myself getting a little tired from my travel and the wine."

"Then, I'll make some coffee." Shaniqua began to rise, but Uhura's words stopped her.

"Sit down, girl. I really don't want to tamper with this serious buzz I got going on. And, in my current condition, it'll probably loosen my tongue up enough to give you details I would not otherwise divulge."

Shaniqua paused to weigh the options, and then retook her position on the couch. "OK – I'll opt for more detailed version. But if you feel yourself starting to crash, I hope it's not on any of the juicy parts."

"All right, I'll do my best. Now, where did I leave off?"

"Spock was busy getting you hot and bothered, then pulled the rug out from under you by saying he was not going to have sex. I know that had to make you angry. Who wouldn't be?"

"Angry isn't the word. I was truly pissed off, but not because we weren't going to have sex."

"Then what were you upset about?"

"I thought you wanted details. Patience, Shaniqua, I thought you wanted details."

"All right . . . all right, Nyota. Get on with it."

While sitting on a bench in a second floor gallery of the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, Spock's gentle caresses of Uhura's hand awakened sensual feelings within her.

"Nyota, I can feel your desire for me crouching at the door." The Vulcan told her. "However, I will not have sex with you, tonight."

Trying to regain senses, her eyes opened wide shocked by his comment. "What?"

"I believe the museum cafeteria may still be open and if we go now, you can order something more nourishing than the energy bar you ate earlier." He rose from his seat. "Shall we be on our way?"

Uhura found her feet, but not her willingness to continue their date. "Do you think I'm going to go anywhere with you after that performance? Just what were you doing anyways?"

The Vulcan addressed her innocently, holding her with his eyes as he simply said, "I was creating time."

Now conscious of other museum patrons entering the gallery, an irate Uhura moved closer to the Vulcan and tried to keep her voice down. "Creating time? You trickster! I see you learned that lesson well. But, creating time was just a subterfuge for your real purpose which was to turn me on!"

"Did I succeed, Nyota?"

It was not just his choice of words, but the calmness of his voice that fed her fury. "Just what am I to you? Like some mad scientist, do you get some sort of sadistic pleasure out of pushing my buttons and watching me react? When do you take time to make note of your observations? Or, are you carrying a recording device which you'll be able to listen to later at your own convenience?"

"My relationship to you is not an impersonal exercise."

"Then what kind of game are you playing?" Even if other patrons could not hear her low and intense voice, there was no mistaking the upset mood of the woman with hands on hips who tossed her braids as she spoke for emphasis.

She continued. "And then, you had the nerve to tell me you were denying to have sex with me, tonight! Just what did I say to even get you to think that is what I wanted?"

"Between a man and a woman, words are not necessary for one to know when carnal appetites call for attention."

"Right. That's what happens in all novels, plays and films men write. They think they know a woman's mind better than the woman herself."

Spock continued his cool demeanor. "When I touched you, did you not experience a sexually aroused state?"

"Yes." She told him unflinchingly.

"Then, it appears my assumption was correct."

"No, only part of your assumption was correct."

"Explain."

"Implicit in your statement not to have sex with me was the assumption I wanted to have sex with you. And while I did experience a certain level of . . . sexual stimulation, I had absolutely no intention of going to bed with you tonight or anytime soon."

"Is that so?" He asked this time baring a skeptical tone.

"Yeah, that's right. Listen, you're not the only one with a – " Uhura suddenly silenced her own tongue as her true affections for the Vulcan came to the surface. She paused until more sure of her voice.

When she finally spoke, again, a softer tone was heard. "I've done a lot of thinking about us and my feelings toward you. And, I know I'm quite vulnerable to your . . . attentions. Yet, at the same time I'm well aware that at the end of next semester you'll be leaving on a five-year mission as soon as the StarShip Enterprise is fully operational. I'm not sure if I could handle getting so intimate with you knowing full well you will soon leave me."

Uhura longed for the Vulcan to take her in his arms and tell her, "Everything was going to be all right." However, it was not to be. She watched in diappointment as he clasped his hands behind his back.

"Your analysis is quite prudent." He told her in his usual detached manner.

Uhura lowered her eyes as she silently cursed herself for feeling close to tears. She told herself, _Why are you getting upset when he behaves like a Vulcan? Isn't he just being true to his nature?_

When she raised her eyes once more, Spock's head appeared cocked slightly to one side.

"Then, you agree with me." She managed to say.

"Most certainly."

"So, then what's _your _rationale for why we shouldn't . . . you know, _do it?_"

Without hesitation, he told her. "I do not wish to be the first to have intercourse with you."

Uhura was sure her mouth had dropped open upon hearing his words, but a loud grumbling from inside her took focus.

The Vulcan commented. "Your stomach has usurped our dialogue. We will head to the cafeteria before it closes for the evening."

"Not before you explain your statement."

"Cadet, will you force me to pull rank on you?"

Sitting at a small round table in the cafeteria, Spock watched as Uhura took the last bite of her veggie burger and picked up her last remaining sweet potato fry. "Are you sure you don't want one?" She asked.

"I have already told you I had eaten sufficiently before coming to the museum."

"I was hoping you'd say that." She confessed as she popped the fry in her mouth and then finished off her bottled water. "I guess I was hungrier than I thought. I'm sure I must have been a sight with me inhaling my food like that."

"As though you were a magician, you appeared to make your food disappear in record time. Indeed, it was quite a gastronomical performance."

Uhura responded with a laugh. The meal had done more than satisfy her hunger. Time gave her the opportunity to regain her equilibrium. Having command of her wits again, she felt a more worthy player in their verbal banter.

"Of course, my Nyanya – my grandmother - would have a fit if she had seen me eating in front of someone while they had no food. And, we would never accompany our meal with a drink. That would always come after the meal."

"Your grandmother is a wise woman. Drinking during a meal dilutes the stomach acids and digestive enzymes."

"Well, I'm sure that was not her reason. It was just a tradition."

"Often times traditions are born out of a truth or necessity which is lost among its practitioners over time. Despite the fact your grandmother may not fully understand the purpose behind such practices, she appears to serve a culture bearer similar to the elders on Vulcan and countless other societies in other worlds."

Uhura appreciated Spock's comments. While many Terran cultures seemed age-adverse, her West African Nyanya would regard consideration as an elder to be high praise.

"Since you have finished your meal, shall we now use the remaining time to tour some of the exhibits?" The Vulcan asked her.

"Not so fast. You don't think I forgot what you said about not wanting to be the first to have sex with me."

"Those were not my exact words, but the paraphrase is acceptable. What is your objection to my sentiments?"

"If I were willing, it sounds like you would prefer to have sex with me only after someone else breaks me in. I know that can't be right."

"It could not be further from my meaning."

"Then enlighten me."

"I am not sure if you are ready to fully understand what I have to say about the matter."

"Why? Because it's about sex? Well, I may personally be inexperienced, but I'm not ignorant about it. I've done some reading on the subject and I have friends who have told me about their experiences."

The Vulcan's silence told her he had not yet been persuaded.

"All right, I know hearing and reading about it is not the same as _doing it._ However, if you haven't noticed I am past grown and have the ability to listen to what you have to say with a mature ear."

"My reluctance has nothing to do with your sexual experience. There is particularly sensitive information I must convey about Vulcan biological instincts and sexual attitudes which few outsiders have been privy to knowing."

Understanding his reluctance, she thought carefully about her response. "I will hold what you tell me in strict confidence. Spock, you can trust me."

The Vulcan paused as if considering her statement. Then, he finally spoke.

"There are those outside of the Vulcan world who think we lack sexual appetites because we rarely provide any outward signs of emotions. This assumption is fueled by the fact Vulcan sexuality is a not considered a legitimate field of study on my planet. Little has ever been written about it and even that has been kept from outsiders."

Spock paused, again.

"However, our sex drives are quite . . . . strong."

His hesitation surprised Uhura. She had never known this quick-witted man not to have a ready command of language.

"Our parents usually leave our sex education to youthful whispers and discreet instruction from the more experienced members of our society. We learn sex to be a biological imperative that can be met alone or with another without experiencing any emotional attachments."

Uhura really did not want to know the answer to her next question and, yet, she felt compelled to ask, "Do you find the need to meet this _biological imperative_ very often?"

"I am a man, Nyota. I am not unfamiliar with the sex act and have engaged in it at my discretion."

His answer silenced her. Uhura now felt foolish for broaching the subject as her insecurities regarding her sexual experience threatened to take hold of her.

He continued. "However, there comes a time in the life of every Vulcan in which he is strictly monogamous. It is a time when sexual intercourse is used as an instrument to strengthen the bond and sense of intimacy between two people. That time is reserved for one's mate."

Uhura nodded and told him, "I understand." She rose from her seat and tried to muster a faint smile. "There's less than an hour before the museum closes. We better get going if we want to see any of the exhibits."

"Now wait, just a doggone minute!" Shaniqua interjected. "Spock basically is saying he screws at will and the act will only be meaningful when he's screwing his wife. What the frack is that?"

"That's enough wine for you, tonight." Uhura told her as she took her friend's glass from her hand.

"And your response is just as crazy, Nyota. You tell him you understand and invite him to see some paintings and sculptures. What kind of mess is that? I mean, did y'all really get up and look at art as if he had been talking about the weather? What's wrong with you?"

"Do you just want me to just skip to the end of the story?"

"All right – all right. I still want all the details. I'll try not to get too agitated. So, what happened next?"

"Spock and I were only able to get through two of the galleries before the museum closed."

"OMG! I can't believe you! You actually did that!"

By now, Uhura had given up on her friend's ability to control her level of excitement. The East African decided to continue with her narrative. "What else could I do? From what Spock told me in the cafeteria, I thought his meaning was quite clear in regards to our relationship."

"And you're trying to tell me what he said didn't bother you?"

"I'd be a liar if I said I wasn't hurt, but I also didn't want to lose him."

"Lose him? When did you have him?"

"Shaniqua, I was trying my best to act like a real adult. And after a while, I thought I had convinced myself that I was actually being one as the two of us went walking through the museum viewing and talking about works by such artists as O'Keefe, Warhol, Saar, Duchamp, V'Lasj, and Sunmeychieal. When we returned to campus and walked toward my dorm, we got into a discussion on the merits of representational vs. nonobjective forms of art?"

"Say, what?"

"Representational art are those works for which the viewer can make some sort of association to the real world whether past or present. Whereas nonobjective art allows no such references to be made."

"I find when I experience art, I need it to be rooted in something identifiable." Uhura argued as she and Spock walked along one of the campus pathways.

"Why is that necessary?" Spock countered. "Does not such identifiable content inhibit a more universal appreciation for that work of art? The masterful juxtaposition of line, color, form, light, and space – is that not all one requires for great art?"

"I'll admit the treatment of such elements in the hands of a master can provide an effective aesthetic experience. However, when that work of art also provides content which can engender a cultural memory, the experience becomes that much more powerful."

Near Uhura's dorm, they stopped to continue their conversation under one of the security lights.

Spock commented, "It is the immediacy of nonobjective works which most intrigues me. This art does not demand more than what is before us at the moment we are viewing it. It takes whatever you have at that point in time and promises nothing in the future."

Suddenly, the Vulcan took her in his eyes and told her. "Sometimes – that which is now - is all one can have. Sometimes – that which is in the immediate present – is all one can hope for."

Uhura shook her head and turned away from him. "I need more than that, Spock."

"Under the current circumstances, it has to be enough has to be enough for us."

"Well, being a woman I just can't think that way."

"Nyota, you are such a great mystery to me."

Uhura turned back to face him. "In what way could I possibly be a mystery to you?"

"I do not believe either one of us has the time for me to recount all of the ways your behavior has baffled me. However, this evening has certainly produced a number of notable examples."

"Just name one." She challenged him.

"You requested an clarification of why I do not wish to be the first to have intercourse with you. However, you did not allow me to complete my explanation."

"I heard all that was necessary to hear. And it's all right. So, I'm not that special someone you want to be with. I accept that." The look of his seemingly impenetrable face bore down on her as she felt the cold December air chill her body. She told herself, _This was not to be. _

Uhura started toward the entrance of her dorm. All her life she had been _her father's daughter . . . the sensible one . . . the good girl . . . career driven. _This Vulcan hardly fit into her plans.

_Do the right thing. _ An inner voice advised her. _Do the right thing. _At the dorm entrance, she reached for the touch plate and watched the door slide open.

Then, on an impulse, she turned back and saw _him_ standing steadfast, having not moved from the spot she left him.

_At now, she knew she was no longer her father's child, but a child of God_

_At this moment she understood, doing the right thing meant giving their relationship a chance to grow._

And _at this time, she realized that doing the right thing meant not leaving the man she loved._

_Her eyes on him as she moved toward this man . . ._

_Her eyes on him as she came within his presence_

_Her eyes on him as she affirmed her need for him_

And, she saw what appeared to be a slight smile upon his lips as he told her, "You returned."

Uhura warmly returned his expression. "You didn't leave."

"I knew you would return."

"And how could you be so sure."

"When we last met at the teahouse, you confessed your love for me. I thought it odd after such a seemingly sincere pronouncement that you would revise your assessment in a week's time."

"I came back for the rest of your answer."

"To what?"

"The reason why you don't want to be the first to have sex with me."

"I recall you telling me, 'I heard all that was necessary to hear.'"

"Don't be difficult."

"In what way am I being difficult?"

"Spock!" Uhura exclaimed.

The playfulness suddenly left the Vulcan's eyes as he told her soberly, "I aspire not to be the first, but the only man with whom you will engage in sexual intercourse while either one of us lives."

_His words took her breath away . . . _

The East African moved away from him into the shadows in an effort to find the space to reflect on his startling statement.

Spock followed her into the shadows and stood behind Uhura. "Are you not pleased, Nyota?"

She struggled to find her voice. "We . . . we have a long way to go before we can make such a lifelong commitment . . . So many obstacles to overcome."

"Like you, I also have performed an analysis of the prospects for our continued relationship and came to the conclusion the odds are decidedly against it. It would be most wise to end all efforts to pursue our association in any more depth." Suddenly she felt his strong hands on her shoulders turning her to him. He lifted her chin so she had no choice, but to look at him.

Spock continued. "However, at this time, I choose to be foolish and would like to spend whatever time I have to unravel the enigma that is Nyota Uhura. Will you allow me the opportunity to do so?"

The Vulcan watched as several tears fell down her cheeks. He asked, "Is this tearful reaction an indication of a negative response or is it an expression of happiness?"

The East African raised her lips, releasing several sweet kisses on his receptive mouth.

When she withdrew, the Vulcan commented drily, "I take that as a sign you are somewhat delighted with my proposition."

"Kind of." She retorted.

"Kind of?"

"I think I might need a little clarification about your so-called proposition. Of course, it's not a proposal, but it is a little more significant than just dating . . . Wait, I think I have it!" She exclaimed excitedly. "I saw one of those American 20th century films from the 1950s or 1960s, where a teenage couple said they were _going steady_. In romantic terms, it meant they would be exclusive to each other while they explored their relationship."

"_Going steady_." The Vulcan repeated. "Sounds a bit juvenile, but no other term quickly comes to mind which better suits this phase in our association."

"Agreed. And, there is something else. The exploration of our _relationship_ needs to be a two-way street."

"If there is an implication there directed at me, I fail to understand it."

Uhura raised her hand and allowed it to rest lightly behind his neck. "Spock, you're not exactly an open book. You've got to learn how to let me in." She pulled him down to meet her lips, again, sealing their newfound accord. The East African encountered playful resistance as she attempted to draw away from him as the Vulcan proved himself unwilling to let her go from his embrace.

"Remember, Spock." She teased. "Less is more."

"Less is not enough." He responded, while stealing one more kiss before she slipped out of his embrace.

"Good night, Spock."

Shaniqua came back from the bathroom grateful she had made it to her destination without having an _accident_. Although anxious to resume her role as an avid listening, she found her friend in no condition to continue her story. Shaniqua gently placed a blanket over the East African who was fast asleep across the couch.

As the actress reached for the light switch, she advised her slumbering friend, "Get your rest now, because I've got plenty more to ask you about Spock. And, don't think I haven't forgot about that T'Lau heifer."

Lights out.

**Author's Notes: **

To be continued. Hopefully, I'll have the next chapter up within 7-10 days of this posting.

Your comments are always welcome.


	42. Chapter 42 Unconditional Love

**Author's Note:** Chapter 42 is the third part of a new post-first kiss episode that began with Chapter 40. Occurring during Uhura's third year as a Starfleet cadet, this chapter features Pike, Spock, Uhura, and her friend, Shaniqua.

Your comments are always welcome.

Dressed in t-shirts and jeans, Uhura and Shaniqua sat about a small table filled with the remnants of brunch. "All right." The East African commented. "If you keep feeding me like this, I'm not going to be able to fit into any of my clothes when its time for me to go back to the Academy in a week."

"I have to admit I know how to _throw down _when I have the time to do it up right." The former Deroiter said proudly. "You know how much I like to cook, especially when there's someone else around to enjoy it."

"And you know I lack self-control when it comes to your cooking. Mmmmm . . . those sweet potato and pecan muffins just melt in your mouth. And nobody can beat your crits with gravy."

"_Grits_, not crits." Shaniqua corrected her.

"Oh, yeah - _grits._ At the Academy, I begged the Executive Chef to add grits to the menu. But, I was sorry when she finally did. The grits turned out kind of grainy and dry."

Shaniqua shook her head. "They probably used a replicator program. You've got to take your time and slow cook your grits in a real pot on a heating unit to get them just right."

Uhura rose from her seat and began to collect the dishes. "Since you cooked, I'll take care of the dishes and then I better get back to studying for my doctoral exams. Remember, that's one of the reasons I came to New York because you promised I'd have a lot of quiet time."

"Now, wait just a minute, Nyota." Shaniqua took the dishes from her and placed them back on the table. "You'll have plenty of time for your studies. I have two shows today with my first call in a couple of hours. And then, for the rest of the time while you're here I not only have performances, but my agent has arranged a series of meetings related to my next film project. So, I won't have too many more opportunities to have a good block of time to listen to more about you and Spock."

Uhura found her chair, again. "I thought you forgot about it, since you didn't mention it at breakfast."

"I wanted to make sure you were well-fed and beholding to me before I had you continue. I definitely want you to throw in more secrets like the information you gave me on Vulcan sex habits."

Uhura sat back against her chair. "Do you really I betrayed a confidence and told you something I promised Spock I would not divulge?"

"But you did tell me that even though they have strong sex drives, they're not so open about sex as other races."

"That's not what he didn't want me to tell. I left the confidential stuff out of my narrative."

"Then, put it back in. He'll never know."

"You know me better than that, Shaniqua."

"All right . . . All right." The actress conceded as she refilled their coffee cups. "I know you're true to your word. But maybe you could just _unintentionally _let it slip."

"I'll continue the story, but don't think there'll be any accidents of that kind."

"OK. Nyota, go on with it. But don't forget to tell me more about that Vulcan heifer."

"T'Lau."

"Yeah, her."

"I'll get to that and more."

Three days passed since Uhura met with Spock at the art museum. Busy with her own end of the semester academic work and military-related trainings, she gained permission from Spock to forego her Course Assistant duties. She promised him she would be back on the job before grades were due.

When she finally returned to his office, the Vulcan was not present. However, he left an extensive list of tasks for her in preparation for the next semester. Uhura shook her head and mumbled, "He's got to be kidding. There's not way I'm going to finish all of this before the holiday break." Reviewing the list, again, she prioritized the tasks and felt confident she could at least complete those items needed for the first few weeks of the semester.

After nearly four hours of working from her assigned computer station, she rubbed her tired eyes and decided she would not get much more done if she did not make a change. She decided to go into the conference room where she had space to project her work unto one of the walls to reduce the stress on her eyes. After taking a brief break, within twenty minutes of working under these altered conditions she felt more effective with her performance. She thought, _I don't have a lot of time before I need to meet Gaila for dinner, but at least I'll get more done this way._

Suddenly, the Cadet heard the office door slide open and heard Spock's familiar steps. As usual, the sound of his computer powering up followed. Although her jacket and bag were set near her console, the Vulcan tended to be single-minded when he came into office and did not always notice such clues to her presence. As a courtesy, she decided to let him know of her location, even though by now he would have already found some task with which to occupy himself.

Just as she started toward the door an unexpected visitor entered the office. After realizing the visitor's identity, she thought it best to stay put and became an unintentional eavesdropper on the conversation.

"Captain Pike." The Vulcan stated with his usual tone of indifference.

"Spock. You didn't meet me this morning for our run." There was no mistaking the tension in his voice; a quality Uhura had never before heard from the Captain.

"Sir, I left you a message, well before our scheduled time."

"And I returned your message stating I would still like the opportunity to meet with you."

"Your message was not stated in the form of an order, Captain. Therefore, I chose to ignore it."

"I made the request as your friend . . . a friend whose son made a terrible mistake." Uhura heard Pike pause, in a futile attempt to allow a more calmer voice to take hold. "He needs a chance . . . _we_ need a chance to make it right."

"Tell me how would that be possible, sir? Did Jack not tell you what transpired?"

"I would like to hear your side of the story."

Silence.

Finally, Spock spoke. "As you wish, sir." The Vulcan began his narrative impassively as if reciting a supply list.

"Captain, as you know, I made an agreement with Jack and his classmate – Brian - to serve as caretaker of the plants in my living quarters. In exchange for this service, I paid the boys 20 credits a month per our arrangement. I met my obligation as required by our contract. However, yesterday, I found out they had taken advantage of my usual absence during the afterschool period when they typically address this task."

Silence.

"After spending most of the day in the lab, I returned to my residence to retrieve a heavier jacket I knew would be more effective against the predicted colder evening temperature. Upon my arrival, I noticed seven youth lined up outside my door. When I asked for the reason for their presence, I was informed they were waiting their turn for the _Vulcan Home Tour_. One of them added the excursion cost five credits a person; however, a peer who had previously participated told them it was well worth the expense."

Then, Spock's detached tone gave way to an icy quality that seemed to chill the air. "I am sure the knit cap I wore yesterday obscured my racial heritage to these waiting patrons. Yet, my identity was certainly no mystery to Jack and Brian when they guided the previous tour group outside. Jack's partner displayed his mettle by quickly running away as fast as his legs could carry him. Sensing something amiss, the other children hurriedly departed. That is, all left, but Jack."

Silence.

"At that moment, I removed my cap to fully expose the selling point for what appeared to have been a profitable venture."

Silence.

"For approximately 24 seconds, Jack and I stood there in each other's company. No words spoken. We just stood there."

Silence.

"The boy reached into his pocket and returned my key, as well as, the credits he had collected. Then, he walked away."

Silence.

"Sir, is Jack's account appreciably different than mine?"

Uhura could hear Pike's shaken voice. "No, Spock."

"At least, sir, he is not a liar."

_Spock. _Uhura wanted to tell him. _Captain Pike is not your enemy._

"According to Jack, the scheme was Brian's idea as a way to raise money for holiday gifts and personal use." Pike managed to say, despite Spock's slight. "But, Jack admitted his culpability in going along with the plan. We spent a good part of last night talking about it."

"Then the affair is closed, as far as I am concerned."

"Spock, the matter is far from being resolved."

"Sir, what more is there to say?"

"It starts with me. I'm here to tell you, I'm sorry, Spock. I thought I taught my son to respect the rights of all beings. He knows he's done wrong, but I wish he could have recognized the consequences of this actions before it was too late."

"Captain, the incident is not an indictment of your parenting skills. You need not offer any note of regret."

"I don't want this episode to significantly alter our relationship."

"After serving with you for two tours of duty, what I have learned under your command is difficult to accurately estimate. I, indeed, owe you much more than my life. I will continue act in the role as your First Officer for as long as you desire, sir."

"Damn it, Spock! This has nothing to do with Starfleet. You're one of the best friends I've ever had."

Silence.

Pike continued. "And, Jack . . . he's afraid you won't want anything to do with him, again. Besides the guilt, that's what is really tearing him up inside. But, I told him he was wrong. Despite the hurt this caused, I told him in time Mr. Spock would accept him, again. Although he's never told you, I know Mr. Spock cares deeply for you."

Silence.

When Uhura finally heard Pike's voice, again, his tone had taken on an officer's firm and direct quality. "I contacted Brian's parents and informed them of the incident. They agreed I should retrieve the funds he acquired and give them to you."

"I have no need for those credits or those Jack has already provided."

"The boys know they can't use them. You could donate the credits to a worthy cause or throw them away, if that would please you."

"Yes, Captain."

"I also would like you to know I have withdrawn certain privileges from Jack. It will be quite a while before he'll be able to enjoy them, again. Even though he'll soon spend the holidays with his mother, I have explained the situation to her and she will make sure the corrective action is carried out when he is with her."

"Is there anything else, sir?" Spock asked dispassionately. "I still have a number of tasks I must attend to before leaving the office."

"Yes, there is something else. It's about Jack. I know nothing can make up for what has happened and I'm well aware who is the victim. However, he _needs _a chance to speak to you himself. I was hoping you would give him the opportunity to do so."

"There is nothing Jack needs to say to me, sir. Although a boy, he is still old enough to know right from wrong. He made a choice and now must live with the consequences."

Uhura felt her eyes moisten as she could sense the pain experienced by the two men. Then, she unexpectedly heard words of hope from the Captain.

"I won't give up on you, Spock. We've gone through too much together to throw that all away."

"Sir, the deed cannot be undone."

"No, but forgiveness _can_ help to heal wounds. That's what unconditional love is all about."

Uhura heard Pike's steps and the opening of the office door.

The East African counted quietly to ten calm herself. She knew she needed to have all her wits about her before attempting to approach Spock.

Uhura walked into the office where she found Spock at his computer reviewing communications. She addressed him, "Sir."

"Yes, Cadet." Showing no indication of surprise by her presence, he answered without looking away from his screen.

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop; however, I couldn't help but hear your conversation with Captain Pike."

"So noted, Ms. Uhura."

The East African continued to stand by him as Spock continued with his work. He finally asked, "Is there something else, Cadet?"

"I want to share a memory I had of you and Jack."

"The incident involving Captain Pike's son is no concern of yours."

Although his response was not receptive, Uhura persisted with a tender call. "Baby." Reaching out, her touch stilled his hands. "If it concerns you, it concerns me."

When the Vulcan turned his head from the computer screen and looked at her, it seemed he had given her permission to speak.

"I've seen you with him around campus and, at times, in the city. Who hasn't? During my time at the Academy, it has not been a rare sight. In particular, there's one image of the two of you that has remained with me for nearly two years now. I believe it was a weekday afternoon when I saw you moving across the quad as you usually do with a quick gait and a face which appeared intent on its destination."

Uhura paused as if recalling the scene before her. "And slightly behind you was Jack . . . his motion appearing awkward and hurried in what seemed like a futile attempt to keep up with your steps. And then at one point, Jack stumbled. You stopped, turned to him, and watched as he picked himself up. My vantage was too far away to tell if any words were exchanged. But, when you resumed your walk, you adjusted your steps to allow the two of you to find the right rhythm to walk together in harmony."

The East African woman waited patiently for the Vulcan to speak. For a moment, his eyes appeared to soften as he quietly voiced, "I remember."

His words brought a gentle smile to her lips.

Spock continued. "I must say your metaphor was not at all subtle."

"It wasn't meant to be." She answered feeling the Vulcan was now ready to revisit the troubling incident concerning Pike's son. "The boy committed an act of intolerance. However, if your feelings for this child were as dear as they seemed to be to my eyes, then you must find it in your heart to give him a chance to seek forgiveness."

As Spock's eyes grew distant and he removed his hands from her touch, Uhura realized his wound was still too painful to accept any prospect of healing. And like an injured animal, he lashed at the one closest to him.

"I find it ironic that the one offering such counsel is the progeny of a man who thrives on racist thought. Do you really believe I should follow your unsavory example and embrace that which hates what I am?"

At first, an impulse came over her to lash back at him for his stinging remarks. However, in time a more reasoned response took hold. _All right, girl, calm down. This is not about you._

"OK, Spock. I'll back off for now. I'm supposed to meet my roommate for dinner, so I better get ready to go."

As Uhura began to move about the office, she could feel the Vulcan's eyes on her for a few moments before he returned to his computer screen. She wondered, _What is going on in that mind of his? _She went into the conference room to shut down the computer system she had used, when suddenly the office communication's system sounded.

She answered the call by stating, "Mr. Spock's office. Cadet Uhura speaking."

"Cadet Uhura, connect me with your supervisor."

Although the East African had only encountered her once before, there was no mistaking the woman's dry, sterile voice. "Good afternoon, Ms. T'Lau. I will check to see if Mr. Spock is available."

"Of course, he is available. He left a message providing the time he would be in his office. I am returning his call."

"Yes, ma'am." Uhura signaled Spock's workstation and informed him of T'Lau's request to speak with him. After he accepted the call, she moved to her own workstation to retrieve her jacket, trying not to appear interested in his conversation. _After all, he does have a professional relationship with her, doesn't he?_

She zipped up her jacket as she heard him say, "Then, it is agreed. I will meet you after your 2:00 PM appointment with the Admiral on December 27."

Picking up her bag, she headed toward the door as she heard. "Yes, I have found a most suitable site for our encounter.

And, just as the door shut behind her, Spock said, "It will surely accommodate the privacy we require."

"Hmmph." Shaniqua sounded as she took another sip of coffee.

"Hmmph?" Uhura intoned.

"I'm thinking."

"Thinking about what?"

"Nyota, the more I hear, the more f**ked up the whole thing sounds. Don't you think your involvement with this Vulcan requires much more thought?"

"Sounds like you've already made up your mind."

"Not yet. But, I'd be a liar if I didn't say I was very close to an opinion."

"I can't say that I blame you. In regards to incident with the Captain's son, I could empathize with the anguish Spock experienced when he learned someone so close had betrayed him. However, when Captain Pike attempted to find a way to reconcile the matter, I saw a darker, unforgiving side to Spock I don't recall seeing before."

"Seems like someone I know has a very selective memory. You've told me how he responded when your first told him about your father and your continued relationship with him."

"Yes. It became one of the first major schism between us."

"You know it isn't the first time he's thrown that up in your face. You're going to have to deal with it sooner or later if you actually want to stay with this guy."

"I know I'll need to address it one day, but as you heard that wasn't the only issue needing attention."

"Don't I know it. All that business about Spock making a date with that T'Lau bitch needs a serious examination. I know if I were you, that definitely would have been reason enough for me to cut him loose."

"It would be a gross understatement to say I was a little concerned about what I'd heard. However, at the time I wasn't completely sure if he was setting up a romantic interlude or an appointment for a business meeting. After all, most information pertaining to the construction of the StarShip Enterprise is highly classified, so privacy would be required."

"Oh, Nyota! I don't know whether to slap or laugh at you!"

"Well, if I have a choice – neither." Uhura retorted.

"Who schedules meeting during the holidays?"

"You could ask the same question to both of us. Earlier, didn't you say your agent has scheduled meetings for you during this time to talk about your next film. And, I'm just as guilty. Here I am in one of the greatest cities on Earth. But, with the exception of spending some time with you and going to Christmas service, I'll be studying for my doctoral exams for most of the holidays. You have to do, what you have to do."

"OK, then why did he _conveniently _choose a time when you would be out-of-town? Out-of-sight and out-of mind."

"I thought about that and it could be just a coincidence."

Shaniqua gasped.

Uhura continued. "And, if he did have something to hide, Spock was well aware I probably could overhear his conversation."

"Maybe he's just bold enough to think he's got you wrapped so tightly around his finger that even if you caught them in the bed together you would refuse to believe your eyes."

Uhura does not immediately respond.

"Nyota!"

"I didn't catch them in the bed. I didn't have to."

"Oh, girl. You're going to make me late for my stage call. But, I've got to hear the rest of this story."

**Author's Notes: **

To be continued, but the point-of-view shifts to Spock for at least one chapter. Hopefully, it will be up within 7-10 days of this posting.

Your comments – whether constructive or not - are always welcome and encouraged to let me know if I'm on the right track with readers.


	43. Chapter 43 Spock's Prayer

**Author's Note:** Chapter 43 is the fourth part of a post-first kiss episode that began with Chapter 40. Occurring during Uhura's third year as a Starfleet cadet, this chapter features Spock, Uhura, McCoy and Kirk.

The chapter also contains the lyrics to the Stevie Wonder song, "Overjoyed." Alas, I am only a mortal and cannot claim any connection at all to the creation or rights to this beautiful composition. I am just borrowing it for a while for Uhura and Spock's pleasure.

For those of you who have already read Chapter 43, this new posting just represents some clean-up of some grammatical errors. Nothing substantive has been changed.

Your comments are always welcome.

In a room at the Medical Treatment Center, Spock pulled his officer's uniform tunic over his black t-shirt as he awaited Dr. McCoy's return. He sat on the edge of the examination table in deep reflection.

Earlier that day, Cadet Uhura did not report to Spock's office at her usual time. She left a message claiming one of the tasks he had given her would better be accomplished at the Academy's Einstein Research Institute. However, Spock knew the data she needed to access was not classified and could have been downloaded at her office workstation. The Vulcan could come to no other conclusion but to suspect she was avoiding him.

Spock knew the East African had not been pleased with his treatment of Captain Pike and response to Jack's betrayal. Yet, he reasoned, what more should be expected of him? Had not the boy committed an insensitive offense to his racial heritage and also attempted to profit from it? Should such abuse be tolerated or simply attributed to youthful indiscretion?

As he told the Captain, this incident should not affect their professional relationship. The debt Spock owed this man was much too great to do otherwise. However, the Vulcan realized the two men's personal relationship was another matter. Pike said, _I won't give up on you, Spock._ However, the Vulcan doubted the Captain could long hold as a friend someone who would ostracize his son. Spock realized their companionship would not be the only loss.

_Jack . . ._

For the second night since the incident, Spock experienced trouble sleeping. He did not understand why, but the boy continued to return to his mind.

_Jack . . ._

This child, who had unexpectedly become a part of his life, once taught him how to take pleasure in simply lying in the grass, watching clouds pass in the sky, and enjoying the presence of one another's company.

_Jack _ . . .

_Why?_

McCoy entered the room with iTablet in hand. "Well, you're in excellent physical condition according to Vulcan standards. Of course, those kind of readings in a human would quickly trigger cardiac arrest."

"Have you secured all the samples from me that you need to run your tests?"

"Yes. However, I don't think I need to tell you how difficult this research will be. If the Vulcan medical establishment weren't so damn secretive, maybe we'd have a better shot at unraveling this whole pon farr mystery before your next episode occurs."

"It's been five years, three months and four days since I experienced the last call to mate. The incident occurred during my last deep space mission. I do not remember much about it, except the initial symptoms of the syndrome . . . hot flashes . . . extreme irritability . . . unjustifiable aggression. We were much too far away from Vulcan for a voyage home in time. I confided only with Captain Pike and the ship's physician about the true nature of my condition."

"According to the medical report, the doctor was concerned about giving you any type of medication since he did not know how it would interact with the extremely high levels of testosterone your body was generating. Apparently, it was Captain Pike who confined you to a padded cell where you were held for nearly 54 hours until your condition returned to normal. It was another 5 days before you could return duty, since your body suffered from severe self-inflicted contusions."

"Throughout the entire ordeal, the Captain took special measures to shield my disorder from the rest of the crew. And, I never even revealed the extent of my experience to my parents." The Vulcan paused as if recalling this period of time. "While recuperating, I barely spoke to him for the first few days out of . . . embarrassment at the loss of control. Yet, he remained steadfast with his company and, despite my protests, served meals to me when he was not on duty. And . . . when I hesitated to rejoin the crew after being deemed fit for duty, he told me . . . " Suddenly ashamed, the Vulcan remembered his Captain's compassionate words – _I won't give up on you._

"What was that, Spock?" McCoy asked. "What did the Captain say to you?"

The Vulcan remained silent for a few moments, before not to subtlety changing the subject. "Did you have the opportunity to review my mother's notes?"

"Yes. They're primarily anecdotes, but from what I read it seems you were extremely fortunate your inability to mate did not lead to senility or death."

"I can only postulate my biracial heritage may have played a part in staving off those effects. However, from the time I reached the age of maturity, the syndrome has become more severe each time."

"Does Uhura know about this?"

"I have informed her of the compulsion to mate at seven year intervals."

"And, does she know you're already spoken for?"

"Doctor, if you are referring to my engagement, I have already explained to you it was not my choice. Through an arrangement by my father, I was bonded as a child when the female was little more than an infant.

"I take that to be a 'no.' Look Spock, I don't know much about Vulcan women, but Terran girls kind of think such details are important."

Spock moved down from the table to stand before McCoy. "That is precisely why I asked you to attempt to discover a medical treatment to control this phenomena, while at the same time I try to identify a strategy to break the marriage contract."

McCoy rose to his feet. "What if after running all of these tests, we find there are biological imperatives that necessitate at least one coupling with someone else of your species. Although you're biracial, your Vulcan genes are dominant in all your physiological traits. For your own well-being, you may not be able to circumvent this sexual drive."

"That is a prospect I choose not to contemplate at the moment."

"How is it possible that one who lives his life by logic and reason would fail to consider all of the likely outcomes of a question?" McCoy asked him teasingly, not anticipating the Vulcan's hot reply.

"Because I am not ready to accept the possibility of losing her!" Spock realized he had exposed a side of himself that few Terrans had ever seen. Yet, he noted McCoy seemed unintimidated by his display of raw emotion.

"As you know, Spock, I've been aware of your _feelings_ for our girl for some time now. But you've got to know you're not the only one who has an interest."

"Are you referring to Cadet Kirk? I am quite cognizant of the fact both you and Uhura consider him as a friend. Although I have not been pleased with some incidences of contact I have witnessed between them, I have nothing to fear from that boy."

"All right, Romeo. You obviously think you have those bases covered. However, let someone give you some advice who has had plenty of experience with how to ruin a relationship with a woman. With someone like Uhura, it's best to be upfront with issues instead of keeping them from her. If Uhura somehow finds out about this other woman from someone besides you, it'll break her heart. I don't care how good you think your _stuff _is. Given the chance, if she becomes vulnerable there will be someone willing to take advantage of the situation to pick up the pieces."

McCoy became very aware of the Vulcan's intense stare as he asked him, "Doctor, do you believe your personal relationship with Cadet Kirk may affect your performance on this project?"

The laugh the question evoked from McCoy confused Spock, since he did not think he had said anything humorous. Then, the doctor replied, "I don't have any bets on any horses in this race. I know you think you now have the inside track, but I've never underestimated James T. Kirk. But more important than that, as a medical researcher with a specialty in xenophysiology, this project represents a golden opportunity to expand knowledge in a field that has been intentionally kept under a shroud for centuries. So don't worry, I'm not going to f**k it up."

Spock gave him a wary look. "Not quite the words of reassurance I expected. However, I suppose it will do. I will leave you to your work."

The Vulcan headed toward the door, when McCoy's question caused him to turn back to him. "When should I expect the DNA sample from a Vulcan female? It'll be all the better if you can secure it sometime during the holidays, since I'm one of the unlucky bastards who drew duty during the semester break."

"I should be able to collect the sample on December 27."

"I'm surprised you were able to find a willing donor for the project. I probably needn't tell you Vulcans tend not to be very cooperative with any kind of Terran-led medical experiments, much less those involving sexual matters."

McCoy watched as the Vulcan left with no further comment. For a moment he wondered how Spock had convinced the donor to accommodate him. But then, another thought took hold, _Was he just going to take it without the knowledge of the unsuspecting contributor? _Although the action would be unethical, the possibility of such a deed by the Vulcan gave rise to a smile. _Oh, Spock. Despite that moral façade, you do have a little devil in you."_

After leaving McCoy at 8:37 PM, Spock came to his office to catch up on reading project progress reports and, perhaps, have a chance to see Uhura. Yet, he knew the latter desire was most improbable. Several days earlier she had suggested they plan a date for that evening, since she would be leaving the next day to spend the holidays with a friend. He could see the momentary disappointment on her face when he told her of an evening medical appointment he had to keep. She then told him it was _probably for the best_ since a number of her friends had asked her to join them that night to celebrate the end of the semester. Now, she was free to oblige them.

At his workstation, he quickly scanned his messages hoping to find a communication from the East African. However, it was now he who experienced a note of disappointment when he found her message contained nothing more than an attachment with the work she had completed earlier that day at the Research Institute.

Despite the bravado he earlier displayed at McCoy's office, the doubts that plague young love began to fester in his mind. _Where was she? What was she doing? Who was she with? Was Kirk among them?_

Realizing it would not be a productive evening if he kept these thoughts at the forefront, Spock willed himself to focus his attention on his research assistants' projects. Becoming immersed in hundreds of sets of data that would have overwhelmed most humans, the Vulcan welcomed the sterile objectivity of his task.

At 11:23 PM, Spock powered down his computer. Carried away with his work, he had stayed longer than he had planned, but felt strangely comforted by the nature of his labor. In preparation to leave, he reached for the lighting controls when suddenly the door slid open.

He heard a gasp from a familiar voice, before she managed to say, "Oh, it's you, Spock." Uhura laughed lightly. "I didn't expect you'd be here."

"I could say the same for you." He responded.

Spock gave her body a quick scan with his eyes. Dressed in civilian clothing, she wore a black leather jacket, purple skirt and knee-high black boots. A simple beret matching the color of her skirt topped her braided hair, which fell freely about her shoulders.

The Vulcan continued. "I will be quite displeased if you came here alone at this hour."

"Of course, I didn't. My escort is coming back to meet me here. He just had to go to the bathroom. And judging from the amount he ate and drank, he'll probably be there for a while."

"He?" Spock stiffened.

"Kirk."

"Cadet Kirk? You informed me you were going out with a group of people."

"I did and _I did_."

"Nyota, have you been partaking alcohol?"

Uhura stepped back in mock indignation. "Now, just one minute. Since when do you think you can question me like I was your child?"

"Can I not be concerned with your well-being without implication of paternalism?"

"You walk a pretty fine line, Mr. Spock."

"Then, indulge me."

Uhura took in the Vulcan with her eyes, who appeared to strike an authoritative posture that questioned her prudence. She had arrived in a joyful mood, but now he had soured it.

"All right." She set down her bag at his workstation, and then assumed the pose of a tightrope walker as she held out her arms to the sides of her body. "If you really must know . . ." With careful steps, she began to move along the imaginary rope. "I only had one beer . . . however, I must confess it was in a very . . . very . . . . very . . . . tall glass. And yet . . . as you can see . . . I may have a slight buzz . . . but I am still in control of 87.3% faculties. And yes, I just made that statistic up." To complete her demonstration, she performed a quick pirouette. Uhura looked to the Vulcan, but his stance had hardly changed.

"Perhaps, your exhibition gave some indication to your level of sobriety. However, it does not address your ability to make rational judgments this evening."

"Say, what?" She exclaimed.

"Choosing Cadet Kirk as your escort is a prime example."

"What's the problem with that? I feel perfectly safe with him."

"You have put your trust in someone who is currently negotiating the perilous effects of overindulgence. It is highly improbable he could even replicate your pretended acrobatic performance. Under the circumstances, I am sure he would be better served if you acted as _his_ escort."

"You really don't know him, so I don't expect you to understand my willingness to place my utmost confidence in his ability to serve competently in this capacity." Her hands found her hips. "However, I do expect you to believe I have enough intelligence to know what is best for myself."

Suddenly, Spock's focus appeared to be at her waist. "Please explain."

"What do you mean, _please explain._ Am I suddenly speaking a language you can't understand?"

"This gesture with your hands on your hips." He said, as he demonstrated her stance. "I recall you using this same posture when we had a disagreement at the art museum. Is this expression particular to your Terran culture?"

Uhura did not know how long she stood speechless with her mouth agape. However, the silence was finally broken when the door slid open.

Kirk entered the office looking a little rumpled, but lucid and able. Uhura turned away from Spock and tried to calm herself.

"Mr. Spock." The Iowan addressed him. "I didn't expect you'd be here, sir."

"For some reason beyond my comprehension, my presence in my own office has become a startling curiosity."

Disregarding Spock's statement, Kirk turned to Uhura. "So, are you ready to go? I know how you are about making sure you're back in time before curfew."

As she moved to her bag at the Vulcan's workstation, Uhura commented, "Mr. Spock and I were engaged in such a stimulating conversation that I almost forgot why I came here." The East African reached in her bag and pulled out a small, gift wrapped box.

In a perfunctory manner, she told Spock, "I am aware this time of year probably has little meaning for you. And although many Terrans gladly look forward to this period as one of celebration and reflection, I know relatively few who acknowledge the significance this season holds for those of us who call ourselves Christians."

Hearing the hollow ring of her tone, Uhura suddenly felt regret for her insincerity. Spock watched as her eyes softened before him and a tender voice took hold. "As Christians, we take this time to recognize the great gift our Heavenly Father gave to us . . . the gift of his Son, Jesus Christ." With her slender brown fingers, she held the box before him . "In the tradition of the season, please accept this small token expressing my . . . _appreciation_ of the relationship fostered between us . . . Sir." She hastily added.

A yawn escaped from Kirk mouth just as Spock reached for the box. Despite the disturbance, his eyes did not leave her as he enclosed the gift in his hand.

"_Now, _are you ready to leave, Uhura?" The male cadet said abruptly.

Uhura averted her eyes from Spock as she answered, "Yes. I'm ready." She picked up her bag and did not look back toward the Vulcan as she parted and said, "Merry Christmas, sir."

Close enough behind Uhura and Kirk to hear their conversation, Spock followed them stealthily so not to be detected. What the Vulcan heard did nothing to endear him to the Iowan.

"Sometimes, I just don't understand you, Uhura. It's hard enough to get by on our Starfleet stipend, but then you have to throw your credits away on that son-of-a-bitch."

"I really didn't spend much more than my time on it."

"Even that was too much. This past semester, you already put in far and above the number of hours required by that Course Assistant _Slave_ position."

"I think you may want to rephrase that last comment."

"And let's not forget the symposium you just about single-handedly put together. Yet, who got all the credit?"

"You know you're exaggerating about the amount of work I've put in."

"Not hardly."

"And, don't forget Mr. Spock did acknowledge my contribution to the symposium in front of all the participants."

"Oh, yeah, a _nice _pat on the back. He could have, at least, coupled that _generous _gesture with a few days off. But, that guy certainly knows how to take advantage of a good deal. You were right back in the office the next day."

"That's where you're wrong. I had two days off."

"Weekends don't count, Uhura. I'm talking about weekdays. Did he give you any one of those days off?"

"No, but – " She wanted to tell him about her true relationship with Spock; however, the East African knew she could not risk it. _Anyways_, she told herself, _he would not approve. Saying James didn't care for Mr. Spock would be an understatement._

"There is no way you can justify the way he takes you for granted. Tonight, when you gave him that gift, the son-of-a-bitch didn't even have the decency to tell you thank you."

"He told me all I needed to hear." She retorted as she recalled the affection he held for her in his eyes. "You just couldn't hear him."

"Well, you must be a mind reader, because I certainly did not see that man's lips move. In fact, nothing on his entire face ever seemed to change. I'd hate to meet up with that guy at a poker game."

The two stop outside the entrance to Uhura's dorm. "Enough about Mr. Spock already. OK?" She pleaded.

"Sorry. You're right. That bastard doesn't deserve so much attention."

"James! Just what do I have to do to shut you up!"

"I guess something really crazy like agreeing to get up early in the morning to catch a flight with me to Iowa for a visit to the Kirk homestead. My mother, my brother and his family, and me . . . we're all going to be together for the holidays for the first time in years. I want you to be there with me, if for no other reason than to prove I'm not making you up. So, what do you say?"

"You know my answer, James. It hasn't changed since the first time you've asked me."

"Which time was that? I know you're not going to give me more of that shit about spending time in the Manhattan apartment of some actress friend of yours, while studying for your doctoral exams. Come on, Uhura. Iowa versus New York City – the right choice should be clear."

His boyish charm could not help but bring a smile to her face. However, it had no effect on her resolve as she retorted, "What can I say, James? I love New York."

Kirk took her in with his eyes. _He knew he would still take her to Iowa. Maybe not physically, but she would be there in his heart. _

As Spock looked on from his vantage point, he could not readily see who had made the first move. However, after the two exchanged Christmas wishes, he saw them come together in an embrace which lasted nearly four seconds in the Vulcan's estimation. And then, _she . . . his Nyota . . . kissed that boy on the cheek._

As Spock readied himself for bed, the image of Uhura and Kirk's public, yet very personal display obsessed his thoughts. Yes, she had taken the time to tell him about those _other _people who were most important in her life – family members, Academy friends and the so-called "precious ones." However, to Spock, _Nyota's manner toward Kirk seemed to cross the line of what was acceptable behavior for someone . . . What did she call it? Going steady. _

The Vulcan was sure someone like McCoy would be quick to say the situation was _just desserts_ for a secretly betrothed man. Yet, Spock felt he had done nothing improper. The bonding ceremony with T'Pring was not his choice. Spock had personally promised her nothing and felt no obligation to complete the union. He simply had no _feelings_ for T'Pring the way he did for Nyota.

There had been too many nights alone when he longed for the East African's touch . . .

Too many nights alone when his body ached for want of her . . .

Too many nights alone when the carnal desires aroused by just the thought of her could only be relieved by his own hand . . .

_Nyota . . . _

_Blow out your candles . . ._

_And give me rest._

Clad only in sweatpants, the Vulcan lay on top of his bed feeling no need for the added warmth of his covers. Slowly relaxing his body, he closed his eyes and let his mind wander until he found his mantra.

Finally, he felt at _peace_ . . .

A _peace_ that comes from removing oneself from a world you don't understand . . .

A _peace_ that does not depend on negotiating relationships . . .

A _peace_ that exists in a lonely void . . .

This was not the _peace _he sought . . .

Not the _peace_ he needed . . .

Opening his eyes, he looked to the side and saw the small gift box Nyota had given him on a nightstand. He had heard such presents were traditionally opened on Christmas Day, which was still several days away. However, he needed something from _her_ now.

Sitting up, he opened the carefully wrapped box and lifted the lid. There, wrapped in tissue paper was a teal-colored data crystal. He placed the crystal in a player on the nightstand. As he heard her voice, Spock reclined back on his bed and imagined she were with him. His thoughts overlapped with her words as he took her within him.

"Spock, don't ask me when I had the time to make this recording. It seems like I've been so busy lately, I wouldn't have the chance to get it done. But I somehow found the time to do so."

_As you always do. _He commented to himself.

"By the time you hear this, it will be Christmas Day."

_Seems as if I have already violated that expectation. I suppose there is no point in discontinuing this session, since the offense cannot now be rectified._

"After attending church service, I know I will seriously be engaged in another round of eating all the goodies my friend, Shaniqua, has prepared for us. _Baby, _I'm gaining five pounds just thinking about it."

Spock contented himself within the light laugh that followed her admission.

"First, I have a confession to make. I've been praying for you, even though I know you probably think of such an act as a futile exercise."

_That certainly is a correct assumption. _

"But I prayed anyways that you would find it in your heart to forgive Jack, even if he hasn't asked for it. He needs you, Spock . . . He needs you to show him that it is possible to learn from one's mistakes and become a stronger person for it . . . But most important, you need to let him know how much you really care for him . . . I know you do."

_How could you possibly know this?_

"You can do this, Spock."

_I don't know how. _He admitted.

"Use the Captain as your guide. Has he ever led you astray?"

_Never. He's been a good friend . . . my best friend._

"Now, it's time for my gift . . . which is actually a gift of music. I found a song that I think kind of sums up my feelings about our relationship. It's written by one of my favorite classic artists. OK – if Shaniqua were to hear this she'd probably kick me about now for not first telling you he was a Detroiter and, arguably, one of the greatest popular songwriters of the 20th century."

_Stevie Wonder._

"It's Stevie Wonder, if you haven't guessed it by now."

_Nyota, are you confusing me with one of your culturally illiterate associates?_

"Spock, I know how much you loathe karaoke, so I'll do my best to make this song my own." The instrumentation began and it was not long before the Vulcan became caught up in the rhythmic lyricism of her voice as she gave new life to the poet's words.

_Over time, I've building my castle of love  
Just for two, though you never knew you were my reason  
I've gone much too far for you now to say  
That I've got to throw my castle away_

Over dreams, I have picked out a perfect come true  
Though you never knew it was of you I've been dreaming  
The sandman has come from too far away  
For you to say come back some other day

And though you don't believe that they do  
They do come true  
For did my dreams  
Come true when I looked at you  
And maybe too, if you would believe  
You too might be  
Overjoyed, over loved, over me

Over hearts, I have painfully turned every stone  
Just to find, I had found what I've searched to discover  
I've come much too far for me now to find  
The love that I've sought can never be mine

And though you don't believe that they do  
They do come true  
For did my dreams  
Come true when I looked at you  
And maybe too, if you would believe  
You too might be  
Overjoyed, over loved, over me

And though the odds say improbable  
What do they know  
For in romance  
All true love needs is a chance  
And maybe with a chance you will find  
You too like I  
Overjoyed, over loved, over you, over you

"Merry Christmas, _Baby."_ She said as she allowed her laughter to serve as her closing note.

Spock needed her . . . _that way . . . _

Needed her . . . _to want him as much as he wanted her . . . _

Nyota as friend . . . nurturer . . . comforter . . .

Nyota as source of light . . . joy . . . compassion . . .

These gifts she willing shared with all those who claimed her heart.

But he vowed no one except he would taste the _sweet, sweet nectar_ he believed she would one day yield to him. Only he would drink from that_ precious cup._

And there, Spock lay on his bed . . . alone again. A man, who had once failed at love, was now determined not to duplicate the previous unhappy outcome. _Not with her . . . not with Nyota._

Yet, the Vulcan had not a clue as to why _this time_ would be different.

And then, the Vulcan suddenly found himself praying to the one he put his faith in._ Nyota. I need you to help me find my way to you._

**Author's Notes: **

To be continued. Hopefully, it will be up within 7-10 days of this posting.

Your comments are always welcome.


	44. Chapter 44 Spock's Little Secret

**Author's Note:** Chapter 44 is the fifth part of a post-first kiss episode that began with Chapter 40. Occurring during Uhura's third year as a Starfleet cadet, this chapter features Spock, Uhura, Gaila, and Kirk.

Your comments are always welcome.

After his morning meditation session, Spock felt more refreshed than he had in days. Uhura's gift of song served as a cloak of reassurance of her affection for him and allowed the Vulcan to resume his normal activities without the preoccupations of fledgling love. _At least for now.  
_

He showered, dressed and then sat at a table to enjoy his usual breakfast of T'mirak rice. Later in his study, he listened to a lengthy podcast on promising research dealing with quantum field theory. The Vulcan took the time to record notes on how the findings might be applied to his own research. Spock began to download another scientific podcast when he looked at his chronometer.

_8:46 AM._

The Vulcan knew Uhura had a 9:00 AM appointment with Dr. Greeley, to revisit her doctoral examination study strategy. The East African told him she also felt obliged to accept the faculty member's invitation to lunch following their meeting.

"After all, she is my advisor." Uhura commented, when they discussed the matter a week ago as he walked her to the computer science wing. "Dr. Greeley will already spend most of the morning with you. Why did she also offer to purchase a meal for you?"

"I did assist her with some research on Bajoran syntax. Maybe it's just her way of saying thank you." "Did she not acknowledge your contributions within the published article? I recall you being quite pleased with the recognition. Were any further human courtesies expected beyond that acknowledgment?"

"None was expected. However, it is a nice gesture on Dr. Greeley's part."

"I find humans rarely perform an act without expecting something in return."

A feigned look of surprise came across her face. "Mr. Spock, you're such a cynic!" When outside of their few private spaces, the two had to be careful to address each other according to Academy decorum.

"The Greeks of your ancient era would contend that was high praise, indeed."

"What are you talking about?"

"To the Greeks, a Cynic was one who sought to live a virtuous life in harmony with nature. Not unlike our Vulcan philosophy."

"Spock, you know good and well I am not referencing some archaic definition of the word. Being a cynic means you believe actions are motivated by selfish intentions. And, while that may be true for some people, I choose to take a much more optimistic view of human nature."

"Nyota, you are indeed an oddity which I cannot explain."

"Sweet talker." She quipped sarcastically.

"Your earnest naiveté on Terran behavior both intrigues and concerns me."

"I see the flattery does not end. Please explain."

"It intrigues me by the very nature of your childlike faith in the potential of humankind. Yet, it concerns me you can formulate such a belief in the face of a barbaric history which clearly demonstrates your species inability to learn from its past."

Uhura stopped their walk and turned to him. "Isn't it true Vulcan also went through a period of unparalleled brutality which nearly led to the near annihilation of your people? If your race could learn to master its darker tendencies, why can that not one day be true for Terrans?"

"It is possible, but not probable."

Ordinarily, she might have bristled at his disparaging comments, but today Uhura was in a playful mood. "So, then what are you? Some kind of masochist or something?" Uhura asked him as they resumed their walk toward their destination.

"Why would you assign such an attribute to me?"

"For nearly 13 years you have chosen to spend your life among a people who you just deemed likely to self-destruct at any time. I am less concerned about the prediction, than the rationality of the predictor. Do you draw some sort of _perverse_ pleasure out of placing yourself in such a volatile situation?"

"The study of human behavior is a pastime of mine. Firsthand observation is, of course, preferable to simply investigating it through secondary sources. Therefore, it is only logical for me to pursue such interests living among the intended subjects of my scrutiny."

"And so, am I also under your scrutiny?"

"As you know, scientific inquiry requires an objective perspective toward one's subject. When that standard is applied, you obviously do not qualify."

"Ooooooh, Mr. Spock." She cooed so softly, only Vulcan ears could have possibly heard it. "I love it when you talk _like that_ to me."Then, although no one else would have noticed, she dropped her hand down so it _innocently_ brushed against his upper thigh.

Upon her touched, Spock stopped abruptly.

Uhura took a few more steps forward, before turning back to him. While his face indicated no particular emotion, she could tell by his eyes he was displeased.

"Ms. Uhura, a word with you."

From his tone, she realized it was a command, not a request. She moved to him, but remained a respectable distance.

"Yes, Mr. Spock."

If she had any doubt of his seriousness, his words and stern tone of voice made certain there was no ambiguity in meaning.

"Unless you are ready to play with fire, you should be extremely careful of your choice of words and the way you make contact with my person."

Suddenly feeling like a child, Uhura lowered her eyes. There had been times when she and Kirk peppered their conversations with sexual innuendos. For the East Afrcian, it served as a means of release from pent up sexual tensions. Kirk willingly played the part of the "safe partner" who she knew would not act on any of their sexual wordplay. _At least, that is what she wanted to believe._ However, she realized too late those same games would not work for either Spock or her. She felt a strong sexual attraction for the Vulcan, but knew she was not ready to have sex with him. _Not yet._

Uhura raised her eyes back up to meet his. Although embarrassed, she would not shrink from the topic she had evoked. "Yes, sir. I understand." "Nyota."

He risked speaking her given name as his eyes appeared to soften. "One day . . ." Both of them knew there was no need to complete the sentence, for neither one knew how soon that _day_ would come.

The two continued their walk until reaching the entrance of a 100-seat auditorium. An electronic placard outside the door indicated the afternoon's activity, Cadet Presentations on "Essential Coding Theory." Cadets and several faculty members filed inside the room, while Uhura and Spock stood by.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay for the presentations, Mr. Spock? I would think you would find such a topic quite stimulating."

"I realize this is a graduate level course; however, when I have previously attended these affairs I did not find the projects under the tutelage of Dr. Connor to be particularly interesting."

"Well, I'm in no position to judge the work of computer science majors, but I am here to lend moral support to my roommate, Gaila."

"The Orion." Spock added.

"Yes. That's her. Public speaking tends to unnerve her, so she can use at least one friendly face in the crowd."

"Computer programming is her chosen field."

"Oh, she's a real wiz with computers. This semester, I've been told there have been several instances when Gaila has amazed Dr. Connor with how quickly she can decode very complicated programs that previously appeared to be impenetrable."

"I do not doubt your claim." The Vulcan commented drily.

"Dr. Connor is easily amazed."

Uhura gave Spock _the look._ Not only could the Vulcan be arrogant, but he seemed to take pride in that trait.

_The look _was suddenly interrupted by an excited Gaila, who had suddenly bounded out of the auditorium.

"There you are, Uhura. It's going to start in a few minutes. I was worried Mr. Spock had given you another shitload of work to do and you wouldn't get here - "

"Gaila." Uhura interrupted her and nodded in the direction of the Vulcan. "Mr. Spock is right _here._"

Although a bit startled by his presence, she did not regret what she had started to say. Gaila felt Uhura too often worked beyond the required hours as Mr. Spock's Course Assistant. The Orion once told her roommate, _"You know he's taking advantage of you. I wouldn't blame you if you reported him to the Academy Commandant."_

Gaila's sentiments were also affected by traditional animosities between Vulcans and Orions as their societies – one built on reason, the other on passion - found little common ground. Even the powerful pheromones of Orion women had no effect on Vulcan men; and neither race appeared at all interested in forging a more tolerable relationship between them.

While Gaila's gaffe concerning the Vulcan had proven a bit awkward, she chose not to apologize. Instead, she attempted to turn focus from her error. "Mr. Spock, when you enter, you will see we have reserved seats for the faculty on the right-hand side near the front of the auditorium."

Spock did not hesitate to respond. "Cadet Gaila, thank you for informing me of the seating arrangements; however, I will not be able to remain for the presentations. After all, there's still a _shitload _of work remaining for me at my office."

Smarting from the return of her impudent word choice, Gaila wilted under Spock's cool glare. Uhura attempted to come to her rescue.

"Gaila, you should go in now and get ready. In a moment, I'll follow you." Uhura took her roommate by her shoulders and gently pushed her forward toward the auditorium entrance.

When she turned back toward Spock, the Vulcan gave her _the look_.

"None of that, Mr. Spock." The East African said trying to suppress a smile in response to his mocking expression.

"None of what, Ms. Uhura? Was the Cadet not out of line?"

"Yes, sir. But – "

"But?" He interrupted lightheartedly. "What possible rational addition could there be to your rejoinder?"

"Gaila is a good friend of mine." Uhura lowered her voice so not to be overheard by passersby. "And, she wasn't the only one who was out of line. Because of her racial background, there are many who underestimate her. I'll admit there are aspects of her culture I don't understand and don't know if I ever will. However, I have come to know there's much more to Gaila than what is on the surface."

"And just how deep does one have to go to find it, Ms. Uhura?"

Uhura made no effort to hide her disappointment with his statement. "She's the first of her race to attend the Academy. It seems you of all people should understand the pressures she's facing from those who choose not to look beyond the stereotype."

From inside the room, Dr. Connor's voice could be heard welcoming the attendees and introducing the first presentation. Without either one of them saying another word, Uhura turned from him and slipped into the auditorium just as the doors began to close.

Inside the auditorium, Uhura took a seat in the center section, three rows from the front. She looked over to where Gaila sat with the other presenting students and nodded when she caught her eye. Judging from her pale looking green skin, the East African knew the Orion was probably exhausted from waiting until the last minute (as usual) to create graphic images and accompanying text for her presentation. Having practiced until twenty minutes before the event was to begin, she seemed to be a bundle of nerves.

Being the last to present on the agenda did not help her roommate's confidence as Gaila passed the time by fidgeting with a strand of her red hair that had come loose from her bun. By the time she took the podium, Gaila felt she could hardly speak. She looked out into the audience to find Uhura and saw Kirk had joined her. When finally began her talk, it was done with such a soft voice that even her microphone could not pick it up. Several audience members raised their own voices to tell her, "I can't hear you!"

The Orion seemed to freeze, saying nothing for what seemed to be a lifetime. Dr. Connor started to make his way toward his immobile student, when in desperation her eyes once again found her roommate's warm and encouraging face. Uhura nodded to her and smiled. Gaila then spoke directly to the East African until she gradually found her confidence and could direct her eyes to other audience members. When she completed her presentation, the surprised Orion welcomed the thunderous applause that filled her ears.

Afterwards, Gaila feasted on Portobello mushroom burgers and sweet potato fries (her favorite Terran food) that Uhura and Kirk purchased for her at a grill in the Student Activities Center. "These are the best . . . burgers . . . I've ever had." Gaila managed to say in between bites. "I was starving! So nervous . . . I didn't . . . have anything to eat . . . all day!"

"We can tell." Kirk teased her. "Too bad for anyone else with a taste for fungi tonight."

"She deserves all she can eat. It was an outstanding performance." Uhura chimed in. "Of course, I didn't understand half of what you were talking about. But, it sure sounded good."

The trio shared a laugh in response to Uhura's statement, but the East African knew Kirk probably had no trouble following Gaila's talk. Despite his seemingly anti-intellectual demeanor, Uhura knew he absorbed information like a sponge and could talk about most subjects – the humanities or sciences – with an expert tongue. Strangely, there were many aspects about Kirk that reminded her of Spock. For a fleeting moment, she thought the two of them might even become friends if they gave each other a chance. But, then she realized that time would probably only be likely the _day after hell froze over._

Back in their dorm room, Uhura noted an exhausted Gaila had uncharacteristically fallen asleep before midnight. "Rest well." Uhura told her softly. "You deserve it."

As she readied herself for bed, Uhura's thoughts turned from her roommate to Spock. Although the Vulcan's condescending attitude toward her roommate had disturbed her, she regretted parting from him on such a sour note. She then dismissed any notions Spock also had similar feelings. She guessed, _He's probably already sleeping like a baby._

The East African crawled under the covers of her own bed, gave the command to turn off the lights, and felt her body slowly being taken over by sleep. While at the edge of the unconscious realm, she was suddenly disturbed by a signal from her communicator. Picking it up from the table beside her bed, she noted the view screen identified the caller as "Unknown." Although she ordinarily disregarded such calls, for some reason unbeknownst to her she decided to answer it.

Speaking in a low voice, she tried to say, "Uhura here." However, a yawn unexpectedly overtook her speech.

"Nyota." _Spock. _His voice was unmistakable.

"Have I disturbed your sleep?"

"No." She whispered. "I had started to – " Uhura did not finish her sentence when she heard Gaila had begun to stir. The East African quickly got up from her bed and went into the bathroom closing the door behind her.

"Nyota?" Spock called to her.

"It's all right, Spock." She answered as she decided to go into the shower stall and slide the door behind her for good measure. "I had to move into the bathroom so I would not wake my roommate."

"Are you now able to speak freely?"

"Yes." She told him as she settled down onto the floor of the stall and rested her back against the wall. "However, I'm surprised you called my communicator. I thought we were going to avoid speaking on devices which could be easily detected and monitored on campus grounds."

"I have configured a frequency which has not been utilized by Terrans since before your last global war."

"An amplitude modulation frequency?"

"That is correct. I calculate it will take security at best 11.75 minutes to detect the use of this bandwidth. However, we can speak without concern of being overheard by a surveillance expert or someone with nothing better to do than to eavesdrop on other people's conversation."

"Spock, this is brilliant."

"Of course, it is." He replied.

"Oh, my . . . I guess I forgot who I was talking to." She commented with a sarcastic edge.

"Nyota, how is that possible?"

Uhura shook her head, and then chose to disregard his comment altogether. "This method of transmission will probably be secure only this once. I've trained with the communications surveillance team and they're pretty sharp . . . I mean, proficient at what they do." She did not want the literal minded Vulcan to again take issue with her choice of words.

"I agree. Then let us not spend another second on the mechanics, which was not the primary purpose of my call. Since we last saw each other at 6:02 PM, I have been reflecting on our conversation regarding Cadet Gaila."

"You should have stayed for her presentation, Spock. It really was quite inspired."

"I do not believe there is a need to overstate her performance. However, she did demonstrate her unparalleled understanding of the subject matter in comparison to the far less than stellar exhibition by her classmates."

His assessment brought a smile to her face. For the Vulcan, this was high praise. "Spock, I'm so glad you appreciated her talk, but I when did you get a chance to hear it. I thought you returned to the office."

"I viewed a live streamed broadcast of the event on my computer. This method affords me the discretion to spend my time more efficiently by choosing to hear as much or as little of a particular presentation as necessary to determine whether it warrants my continued attention."

"I had forgotten that service is available, but I'm pleased it is. Otherwise, I wouldn't not have had the chance to say _I told you so_."

"Was that an attempt to gloat, Nyota? I thought you were more mature than that childish gesture suggests."

"Oh, no you don't." She laughed. "I'm take some time to going to enjoy this."

Spock waited for her laughter to wane before he spoke again. His baritone voice appeared deeper and more sensual than she had remembered hearing it before. "The sound of your laughter pleases me, even when it is done so at my expense. How I do enjoy the sound of your voice."

His statement sobered her. "That's not fair, Spock. You can't talk like that when I'm trying to make fun of you."

"That truth could no longer stay in my heart, but sought release through words. Still, that expression is but an inadequate vehicle for feelings not fully realized."

Uhura could not speak for a few moments as she took in his words and held them inside her. And when she found her voice, she could only think to say, "I hate you."

"You hate me." He repeated her statement.

"Where is the logic in that statement?"

"It has to do with . . . with what you said about the sound of my voice . . . "

"This caused you to hate me." "No . . . no . . . you . . . Spock . . . "

"A complete sentence would assist comprehension."

Uhura took a breath in an attempt to gather her thoughts. "I was trying to _pla_y with you, but then you said something so sweet . . . so wonderful it touched my soul. I found myself wanting to return your tender sentiments, but my speech failed me miserably. So, I don't really hate you. _Baby_, I love you with all of my heart."

"Not quite equal to poetry of my lyrics, but your words will do for now."

"Thanks, Spock." She could not match words with Spock that night.

Uhura suddenly heard a signaling sound. "What was that?" She asked.

"I set a timer to let me know when there were but three minutes left for us to safely speak on this frequency. When the remaining time expires, the transmission will automatically end."

"So soon?" She commented with a note of regret.

"Nyota says that she loves me, does anything more need to be said?"

"Oh, no." She told him as she held back an overwhelming surge of sentimentality. "I'm not going to tear up every time I talk with you. If I play that cliché too often, it can't help but start to feel kind of sappy."

"Then do you have a subject for the last 156 seconds of this transmission."

Uhura reflected for a moment before a topic came to mind. Her voice brightened as she announced, "As a matter of fact I do."

"I am listening."

"I've always been meaning to ask you about the red scarf."

"The red scarf?"

"You know . . . the red scarf I wore as part of my uniform when I gave tours of the Academy. It came up missing the night I had dinner with you and your mother. Remember, I later came to your office and inquired about it."

"I recall your dialogue concerned your futile attempts to contact my mother in order to make inquiries about the scarf."

"At the time that I came to your office, did you actually possess the scarf?"

"Not at the office."

"Did you know of its whereabouts?" Uhura knew he would not lie as long as she worded her question precisely in ordered to elicit the exact information she desired.

"Yes, I knew of its location."

"And, where was it being held?"

"In my apartment."

"How long had you possessed it?"

"Since the night you carelessly confused your items with those of my mother's. Really, Nyota, you should be more careful with your possessions."

"Don't try to shift the focus, Spock. I have not completed my questioning. Where did you keep the scarf in your apartment?"

"I do not understand why that information would be significant."

"Just answer the question."

"If you must know, I kept it in my bedroom."

"Your bedroom?" His answer surprised her. "Why didn't you place it near your front door, so you would remember that it didn't belong to you and should be returned?"

"Obviously, my initial intent was not to return it so promptly."

"Why would you want to hold on to it?"

"When I held it to my nose, your scent was still present. Although we had not openly shared our interest in each other at that time, I wanted . . . no, I _needed_ a part of you to be with me."

Uhura could feel her eyes well up with tears. He moved her so.

Somehow she managed to say, "Spock. That was beautiful." She took a breath to steady her speech.

"But, baby, there's still something I don't understand. Why did you keep the scarf in your bedroom?"

"I had use of it."

"You had use of it? Whatever for?"

"I used it as an aid."

"An aid for what?"

"For masturbation."

Her scream filled his ears as the transmission cut off.

Although a week had passed since the incident, the mere thought of Uhura reaction to the discovery of the use of the red scarf brought what could pass as a smile to the Vulcan's face. As planned, later that afternoon he would meet Uhura at the SkyPort before she boarded her flight to New York. That still would give him time enough to go by Captain Pike's home that morning to speak with Jack.

Before he left his apartment, he returned to his bedroom to retrieve the communicator he had left on the table beside his bed. Upon picking it up, he noted something a bit out of place as he saw a corner of a red scarf peeking out from under his pillow. He lifted the pillow just enough to position the article so it would not be seen . . . _at least, not until it was required once again._

Spock had not lied to Uhura for it was she who assumed he had returned the original accessory, when he had actually sent her a new one. After all, it would be unseemly to send her the same silky red scarf that had grown so accustomed to the feel of his lok. _Now, wouldn't it?_

**Author's Notes: **

To be continued. Hopefully, it will be up within 7-10 days of this posting.

Your comments are always welcome.


	45. Chapter 45 Pike's Confession

**Author's Note: **Chapter 45 is the sixth part of a post-first kiss episode that began with Chapter 40. Pike reveals something about his past with the intent of persuading Spock to end his relationship with Uhura. Occurring during Uhura's third year as a Starfleet cadet, this chapter prominently features Spock, Jack, and Pike. Uhura is included near the end of this installment.

Your comments are always welcome.

Spock reached for the touch plate to leave his apartment with the intention of going to Pike's apartment to speak to his son, Jack. However, when door slid open, he found he did not have far to go as the boy stood outside. The eleven-year old was dressed in jeans and a jacket opened to reveal a t-shirt displaying one of the youth's favorite classic rock bands, The Guess Who.

Jack noted Spock's head slightly askew, which was usually a sign something had elicited his curiosity. Realizing himself to be the object of the Vulcan's gaze brought butterflies to stomach. However, for the boy there was no turning back until he had completed his self-appointed charge.

Taking a breath to calm himself, Jack looked directly at Vulcan to speak. "I would like a word with you, Mr. Spock."

Spock noted the boy's voice trembled slightly; however, his stance was steadfast. "Does your father know you are here?"

"Dad was going into the shower when I left."

"If you left your home without his permission, you must return immediately."

"Not until I speak with you, Mr. Spock."

Jack's determined-looking face drew a striking resemblance to that which Spock had seen portrayed by the boy's father countless times while on Starfleet missions. If he were like the Captain, Spock knew from experience he would not easily be persuaded to change his mind.

Spock stepped aside and allowed the boy to enter. Jack walked past the Vulcan as the door slid closed behind him. Pike's son turned back to face Spock, whose indifferent expression offered no comfort. Time passed when nothing was said.

Finally, Spock spoke. "You were quite adamant in your resolve to speak with me. You should move on with your task."

Jack took another breath and then recalled the words he had practiced while earlier laying in his bed. "Mr. Spock, I have known you a long time . . . ever since I was a little kid."

"Two years, five months and 24 days ago I was first introduced to you when your father and I returned from our second mission together. You were but nine years old."

"That's right. And, I've learned a lot since then about being a man."

"Please explain."

"As a kid whenever I got in trouble, I would expect my Dad to help me get out of it."

Spock knew Jack had overstated his implied penchant for mischief. On the contrary, the Captain had often referred to his son as a "good boy." Still, the Vulcan chose not to challenge the youth on this detail. "How has that expectation changed?"

"I know I've got to take responsibility for what I do. And, although I still like to go to Dad for advice, I've got to deal with stuff myself."

"Is that why you came to my apartment? To deal with _stuff_?"

"Yeah. You know . . . what happened earlier this week . . . when I tried to make money off of selling tours of your apartment."

"It appeared to be quite a profitable business."

"It wasn't right. It wasn't right at all. Funny thing, Mr. Spock. I didn't really realize how wrong it was until you caught us coming out of your apartment with one of our tour groups. The way you looked at me . . . " The boy cast his eyes down in shame and struggled to retain his voice. "Didn't mean . . . didn't mean to hurt you, Mr. Spock."

"You are mistaken. I was not injured."

The boy looked up to Spock near tears, but he fought not to release them. "Why do you act as though it did not matter to you? I saw you, Mr. Spock."

"While it was true I was quite disappointment in your actions, you need not try to ascribe an emotion to me which I did not . . . " Spock could not complete the statement. The truth was Jack's actions had _hurt_ him. The boy had _hurt_ him deeply.

The boy and man stood in each other's presence . . . neither one knowing what to say.

Finally, Jack spoke. "I tried to look up a word for forgiveness in Vulcan, but the closest I could come to it was _tap-fam-nufa"_

"Thrap-fam'es nufau." Spock corrected him. "Although you mispronounced the word, your analysis was accurate. The concept of forgiveness differs significantly between our two cultures. The most important difference concerns the necessity to find a way to reconcile feelings of resentment, loss or even anger on the part of the offended party. This need which is an essential element in the Terran concept of forgiveness has no such counterpart for Vulcans."

The boy looked at him earnestly and said with an unwavering voice. "Then as a Terran, I ask your forgiveness."

Silence.

A vulnerable child left himself exposed before the Vulcan . . . a Vulcan who knew not how to respond to such human sentiment. In one of the few times of his life, he felt _inadequate._

Not knowing the reason for Spock's silence, Jack took it as a sign of rejection. His fingers found the end of his jacket's zipper and pulled up the fastener in preparation to return outside. However, the boy had not said his last words.

"Mr. Spock, I'm not sorry I came here this morning. Maybe it can't make up for the stupid thing I did earlier this week, but it was still the right thing to do."

Jack started for the door when Spock's voice stopped him.

"I hardly recognized you. "Spock began. "Right before my eyes, you have grown much. Not so much into a man, but a glimpse of the man you will become. Your father is there, yet someone else is emerging . . . someone unique and true. You are still very much a work in progress, but how wondrous your future appears."

Jack turned back to Spock, his face bearing a joy that set his face aglow.

The Vulcan continued. "I must confess, I do not fully understand the Terran concept of forgiveness. However, what you ask I freely give all that is within me."

The boy's sudden embrace suddenly caught him by surprise causing the Vulcan's arms to fall awkwardly by his side. _Sarek would not approve. _Jack's arms around his waist . . . his head against Spock's chest. _No Vulcan child would put himself in such a position. _

But, Jack was not Vulcan. Nor was he like any human child Spock had ever encountered. And he had to admit . . . _this feeling was not unpleasant. _

Taking the boy by the shoulders, Spock gently moved him back from him. "Come along now, Jack. I'll take you back home, now. Your father will be worried."

Jack nodded and the two left the apartment to begin their walk toward family housing. They did not get very far before they saw a worried looking Captain Pike coming toward them.

"Dad!" Jack exclaimed.

"I stepped into the shower thinking you're in your room packing for your trip to see your mother. However, when I came out you're nowhere to be seen."

"I had to speak with Mr. Spock."

"Is everything all right?" Pike looked to his son, then to Spock awaiting an answer.

"It is not what it was, but nor should one expect it to be." The Vulcan responded.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" The Captain asked.

Jack spoke up. "I took care of it, Dad."

"_You_ took care of it."

"Yes, Dad. I can handle my business. Right Mr. Spock?"

"Captain, you will be pleased to know your son has demonstrated an ability to negotiate his interpersonal conflicts."

The boy beamed proudly.

"It still doesn't mean you can just leave the house without letting me know where you're going." Pike told Jack sternly.

"Oh, Dad." The youth replied. "You still treat me like a kid."

"You are a kid."

"It makes me wonder if that's how you treated mom when you first met her. You know when she was a student of yours at the Academy."

Before he answered, Pike glanced quickly at Spock who seemed to show no reaction to the revelation.

Turning back to his son, the Captain commented. "Your mother was an adult, not eleven-years old. She wasn't my child, but you are. And as long as you are living under my roof, you will do as I say. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Dad." The boy said as he lowered his eyes.

"Hey, Jack." Pike called his name to get his attention. "You think I can't see you're growing up? If you believe that, you're wrong. Each day seems to bring about a new change in you in so many ways. A few steps forward . . . a step backward . . . then steps forward, again, until one day you will come into your manhood. As a parent, I look ahead to that time with great anticipation." Pike reached out and tenderly placed his hand on Jack's shoulder. "However, you must excuse that small part of me who will also miss that child his grown son will leave behind."

The boy does not fully understand all he had just said. Yet, he nodded instinctively in acknowledgement of his father's love for him.

Pike continued. "Jack, you run along back to the apartment and finish packing. I need to speak with Mr. Spock for a moment."

"OK, Dad. See you later, Mr. Spock."

Before he began to speak, Pike watched Jack move far enough away so not to be overheard.

"Spock, I didn't want you to find out about it this way. That is, about my former wife being a student when I first met her."

"Captain, I presume you did not want me to find out about it at all."

"I can't deny that."

"Sir, as you know, you have been less than supportive of my relationship with Ms. Uhura. Yet, you were married to a former cadet. It makes you appear . . . "

" . . . hypocritical? Isn't that the word you want to use? Come on, Spock, I've never known you to be hesitant to be frank with your speech."

"You are still my Captain."

"But I'm also a man, Spock. I thought you learned long ago I don't walk on water."

"Friend is another name I have called you. It is the identity I value most."

Pike took in the Vulcan with his eyes. He also highly prized his friendship with Spock. He deserved an explanation, even if it might tarnish the Vulcan's perception of _his Captain._

"Let's start walking." Pike suggested. "It's getting cold just standing around."

The two men moved along the pathway in silence for several minutes. Spock looked to Pike and saw him bearing the face of a conflicted man.

Finally, the Captain spoke. "Can't seem to find the right place to start the narrative."

"It is always best to start at the beginning, sir."

"Yes . . . the beginning . . . eighteen, no . . . it was nineteen years ago. I had just earned the grade of Lieutenant Commander after a tour with the USS Excalibur. While I awaited my next StarShip assignment, I accepted my first appointment with the Academy as military historian. As a novice, I completely felt out of my element and played out my insecurities upon the students. Those early faculty reviews by cadets almost lost me my position."

"I find your account difficult to believe, sir. For some time, your courses have enjoyed a reputation of being rigorous yet quite popular among students."

"How I wish I could say that reputation was true from the beginning, but it wasn't. And during my second semester, one of my most vocal critics was a young cadet from Seville who would one day become Jack's mother. Ironically, her parents had named her Melosia Cepeda."

"In what way was her name not fitting?"

"The translation of her given name is the word, sweet. However, there was nothing _sweet _about her. Melosia was only twenty-one when I first met her . . . still just an undergraduate. Yet, she already showed promise of the woman she would become. Someone possessing strength of will, persuasiveness, and a fierce confidence in her abilities."

"After we became friends, I had known you to have relationships with a number of females and, strangely, none of them seem to have possessed those attributes."

"Once you've been burned . . . "

Spock almost regretted he had made the observation as Pike fell silent after being unable to finish his sentence. The Vulcan decided to prod him into continuing his story. "Since your relationship with Ms. Cepeda began under such contentious circumstances, how did you eventually become involved with her?"

"One day, Melosia stayed after class claiming she wanted to speak with me about my teaching style. She told me before she decided to join the Academy, she had spent one year teaching the Federation language to the children of immigrant alien families escaping the Marcursian War. From that experience, Melosia shared tips she said could make my instruction more effective."

"Assuming you implemented them, did her recommendations have the desired effect?"

"It took time, but as I adopted her suggested practices I became more sure of myself in the classroom. This led to a more satisfactory experience for me and the students."

"Why do you believe your former adversary became such a champion of your teaching success?"

"I was 31 and had enough of an ego at the time to think I was attractive, especially to a young woman only a few years out of her teens. I thought she genuinely wanted to help me."

"When did you find out otherwise?"

Pike slowed his pace until he finally came to a standstill. Spock stopped and waited patiently for the Captain to find his voice.

"Spock, there's a reason why the Academy has a policy prohibiting romantic or sexual relationships between faculty and cadets. In such relationships, there exists inherently unequal positions of power that may undermine the real or perceived integrity and trust which should be present in student-faculty associations."

"Captain, what follows your preamble?"

"Melosia made the first move. She came to my office under the pretext of seeking clarification for one of the assignments she maintained she did not understand. After I explained the instructions to her, I asked if she required anything else." Pike hesitated as if recalling the moment. "That's when she kissed my lips. When she withdrew, she asked me if she had offended me . . . I knew it was inappropriate . . . I knew it was wrong, but I reached for her and returned it."

Pike paused, again, wondering if he should continue. However, like a man in need of redemption, he could not refrain from continuing his account.

"Over the next few weeks, our relationship moved to the next step rather quickly. The sex was good and we were quite resourceful and creative in finding opportunities to indulge our desires. We managed to continue our affair undetected for nearly two years, despite the fact neither one of us remained exclusive to each other."

"Captain, did you love her?"

"Honestly, Spock, I don't know if I ever did. As time neared her graduation, there was one emotion I can definitely confess I experienced . . . guilt. It didn't matter if she believed it to be consensual. I took advantage of a power dynamic for little more than self-gratification. Guilt is a poor substitute for love, but I disguised and offered it up to Melosia. And to my surprise she accepted it."

"Did a Starfleet marriage ceremony follow?"

"No. Our wedding was a private affair and took place in my hometown of Mount Pearl on the island of Newfoundland. Besides the marriage commissioner, my parents, sister and Melosia's mother witnessed it. I think we both knew it had been a mistake, but we played the part of husband and wife for several years before I finally received my first commission as Captain of a StarShip. I accepted it with no hesitation. Melosia remained on Earth in an administrative position. Several months into my tour of duty I received notice requesting a divorce. I agreed not knowing at the time she was pregnant with Jack. I think you know the rest of the story."

"I recall it was not until our second mission together you learned you had a son."

"Word finally came to me Melosia was able to obtain a discharge from Starfleet service well before her pregnancy could be detected. Then, relocating to New Zealand, she gave birth and named the boy Javier. She raised him in that part of the world for four years."

"Although you effectively kept your anguish hidden from the rest of the crew, there were times I could sense you were quite troubled. While executing your duties as Captain in deep space, It was difficult for you to try to assert your parental rights. Yet, you perservered."

"Jack was worth the fight. He's the only thing good to come out of my so-called union with Melosia."

Spock turned from Pike reflecting on the Captain's story.

Pike asked the Vulcan, "So, Spock, do you now understand why I cannot be supportive of your relationship with Ms. Uhura? As your friend, I want to spare you the pain and bitterness I experienced in a relationship which should have never happened."

Spock turned back to Pike and surprised him with his unwavering voice. "Sir, we are indeed friends and I appreciate your desire to spare me any unfortunate consequences which may result from my relationship with a Cadet. However, with the exception of the fact that Melosia was a former student of yours, I find few other similarities between your account and my involvement with Ms. Uhura."

"That is because it is still so new. Like me at that stage, your judgment is clouded by desire."

"Unlike you, sir, I love her."

Moments passed before Pike could find his tongue. Then, he finally spoke not as friend, but as Captain. "Spock, if this relationship comes to light, I cannot protect you."

"Captain, it is a risk I have willing accepted."

"And, what about Ms. Uhura? Are you prepared to deal with the potential consequences to her career if this impropriety were to be uncovered by the Academy administration? Spock, you're a highly valued faculty member, acclaimed scientist and decorated officer. Such a revelation would do little to effect your future prospects. That would not be true of someone, like Cadet Uhura, in a fledgling position. If you love her, you must also be concerned with what is best for her."

At the SkyPort in a domestic flight terminal, Spock spotted Uhura with her flight bag at her feet while sitting amongst other waiting passengers. Dressed in civilian clothes, her braids hung loosely about her shoulders and framed her face. With iTablet in hand, she appeared to be in the midst of reading something that gave her pleasure. At one point the Vulcan witnessed laughter escaping her lips and saw several people nearby turn their heads slightly in her direction and smile.

And, he could only think . . .

_Perhaps, I am selfish. _

_Perhaps, I do think more of my own needs more than hers._

_Perhaps, I am more concerned with what is best for me._

_If that is true, then so be it._

_Let me be damned for wanting her so._

_Nyota . . . _

_Let me bask in your glow and bathe in your sunshine . . . _

_Let me drink of your wine until filled with your intoxicating potion . . ._

_Let me eat of your sweet dark chocolate and want no more . . . _

_Ashayam, I shall love you . . ._

_Dearest Nyota, how I love you . . ._

**Author's Note: **__There is one more chapter in this episode before I begin a storyline in which T'Lau becomes a major character.

Your comments are always welcome.


	46. Chapter 46 A Little Distance

**Author's Note: **Chapter 46 is the seventh and last part of a post-first kiss episode that began with Chapter 40. In this chapter, Shaniqua calls upon Uhura to examine her relationship with Spock. Occurring during Uhura's third year as a Starfleet cadet, this chapter features Spock, Uhura, and Shaniqua.

Your comments are always welcome.

In the Manhattan apartment of an actress and friend named Shaniqua, Uhura sat on the couch sipping a glass of water. At 9:15 PM on Christmas Day, the bemused East African listened to Shaniqua's strained, overly happy voice as she gave parting words to a middle-aged couple who were leaving her apartment.

"Thanks Bill and Kate for everything . . . no, it was totally a surprise. In his last telecom, Jacob didn't even mention you were going to surprise me like that . . . Oh, yeah . . . love you, too . . . Have a safe drive back . . . Merry Christmas to you, too . . . love you more!"

When Shaniqua is finally able to close the door, she leaned back against it and let out a loud sigh.

"Geez, I didn't think they would ever leave. Sorry, girl, I really didn't see that coming. Sure didn't plan to have us spend Christmas Day with my future in-laws."

"I thought it was sweet." Uhura said teasingly. "They drove all the way down from Canada . . . "

"Windsor . . . Windsor, Ontario. Right across the border from Detroit."

". . . just to make sure you didn't spend Christmas alone."

Shaniqua walked over to the couch and plopped herself down. "Don't I wish that were the case. However, when they found out I was having company for the holidays, I'm sure they just wanted to find out if I were taking the opportunity to cheat on their baby."

"How can you be so sure?"

"They can't believe that an actress could be monogamous. It's a prejudice against people in my profession which goes back hundreds of years."

"I think you're being a bit paranoid."

"Oh, yeah. Well, didn't Jacob's mother spend quite a bit of time in my bedroom?"

"She was using the bathroom. You know you can't get to the bathroom, without going through your bedroom."

"Explain why she had to close the door to the bedroom? Isn't it enough to just shut the bathroom door?"

"Well, I've got to admit that was a little peculiar."

"She was snooping. That's what she was doing."

"Do you think she found anything?"

"Nyota!"

Uhura laughed. "Oh, girl, I was just playing with you, because you're taking this too seriously. In retrospect, exactly what harm was done by their visit? And as a bonus, Jacob's folks brought all the food and insisted on cleaning up."

Shaniqua paused to reflect for a few moments before she acquiesced. "Yeah, I suppose you're right. And, the cooking was almost as good as mine."

Her friend's comment reminded Uhura the actress certainly had no problem with self-confidence. "In the end, both of his parents genuinely seemed to like you. I'm sure they'll give Jacob a good report."

Alarmed, Shaniqua quickly sat up. "They'll do what? Do you think Jacob put them up to this? If he did, I'm going to give him a piece of my . . ."

"Hey, wait a minute." Uhura interrupted her. "I wasn't trying to start an interglobal incident."

"If Jacob doesn't trust me, he shouldn't have gotten into this relationship."

Uhura watched as Shaniqua grabbed a large handful of maple-covered popcorn from a nearby bowl and stuffed it into her mouth. The East African laughed as her friend with her puffed out cheeks struggled to move her mouth, made almost immobile by her overindulgence.

Shaniqua attempted to speak, but only produced a mumbling sound.

"Chew, girl, then talk." Uhura advised, and then handed Shaniqua her water glass.

After the actress was finally able to chew and swallow, she drained the water from her friend's glass. "Now, what were you saying?" Uhura asked.

"I absolutely hate sweet popcorn!"

"Nobody forced you to eat it."

"Damn Canadians! Whoever heard of putting maple syrup on popcorn!"

"Shaniqua," Uhura looked at her friend warily, "I think you'll survive."

"You know his parents probably brought it over here on purpose." Shaniqua grabbed another handful.

"Shaniqua – I don't think you need anymore of that." Uhura warned.

"It's Jacob's favorite snack!" Tears sprang from her eyes as she again stuffed her mouth.

Uhura moved over to her friend and allowed Shaniqua's head to find comfort on her shoulder as she gently rubbed her back. "You certainly have it bad, girl."

The actress attempted to speak with a full mouth, but Uhura admonished her. "Shaniqua, chew!"

"You know Jacob looks a lot like his Dad." Shaniqua finally managed to say.

"Well, yeah . . . it _is_ his Dad."

"And his Mom, Jacob's got her eyes."

"I know you're crazy about him." Uhura tried to console her. "It's natural that you miss Jacob with him being so far away."

Shaniqua lifted up her head and began to wipe her eyes. "You know, it would really help if you talked to me about something to get my mind off of all of this."

"Sure, what do you want to talk about?"

"You and Spock."

Uhura looked at her friend suspiciously. "How much of that performance was real?"

Shaniqua smiled slyly as she leaned back against one of the sofa cushions. "I'm good, aren't I?"

"Well, it's not going to get me to say another word about my relationship with Spock, again. Not after all the relentless teasing I endured when I told you about the red scarf."

"Not the red scarf per se. It's what he _did_ with the red scarf that had me howling! From your little brown neck to his big green –"

"Shaniqua, can you just shut up about it?" She took a breath to try to calm herself down, but it was having little effect. "First of all, Vulcan blood has a greenish hue, but their skin is not noticeably green in color. Second, I've never seen . . . _it, _so I have no idea of its size."

"You've never seen what?"

"You know . . . _it!"_

"Nyota, you're a grown woman. It's all right to say the word."

"I can say it if I want to. You act as though I've never said the word in my entire life."

"Then what's stopping you now? Say it."

Uhura hesitated. Then, taking another breath, she said quietly, "I have never seen Spock's . . . penis." When Shaniqua smiled and nodded approvingly, Uhura grew in confidence and raised her volume as she repeated. "I have never seen Spock's penis."

"What about his dick?"

She giggled. "The dick of Spock has never been in my sight."

"And his cock?"

"No, I've never before beheld," she shouted, "SPOCK'S COCK!"

The women laughed hysterically like naughty children. Finally exhausted, the two lie back against the couch side by side.

Shaniqua spoke first. "So, now will you tell me more of your story about you and Spock."

"Are you going to behave this time?"

"Do you want me to lie to you?"

"If you must."

"All right. I promise I'll behave."

Uhura paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. "Where did I leave off?"

"Did you talk with Spock about the red scarf when you finally saw him in person?"

"Shaniqua, how long have you known me?"

Her friend laughed. "I take your answer as a _no_."

"Don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't ever think about sex or that I don't ever feel . . . _sexual_. And, Spock . . . he's quite adept at knowing how to . . . _get to me_."

"Details please!" Shaniqua said excitedly.

"All right . . . all right! But you know how I am when I'm telling a story –"

"Yeah, I know." Her friend interrupted Uhura. "It takes you awhile to get to the good parts. So, get on with it, girl."

"OK . . . OK." A smile came over her face as she thought back. "The last time I met with Spock was at the San Francisco SkyPort, while I was waiting for my flight to visit you. Even there we had to be careful. With so many Starfleet personnel leaving for the holidays, we couldn't risk sitting together. So, while I was waiting in the terminal, Spock called my personal communicator."

"From his office?"

"No, he was in the terminal, too. He arrived later after I had been there for a while. I recall when I heard the signal, I was watching _Everybody Loves Hosni._"

"_Everybody Loves Hosni! _That show is hilarious! Did you see the episode when he accidently deposited most of his company's credits into his own bank account and became an instant billionaire?" Shaniqua laughed. "It cracks me up just thinking about it. I can't believe the show was recently cancelled."

"I thought you wanted to hear about me and Spock."

"Oh, right. Go on with your story."

At the SkyPort in a domestic flight terminal, Uhura sat amongst other waiting passengers. Dressed in civilian clothes, her braids hung loosely about her shoulders and framed her face. With her flight bag at her feet and iTablet in hand, she appeared to be in the midst of looking at something that gave her pleasure. At one point laughter escaped her lips and several nearby people turned their heads slightly in her direction and smiled.

Uhura's activity was soon interrupted by the tone from her personal communicator. A smile came to her face when she recognized the caller's identity. She quickly slipped on her earpiece.

"Spock." She said as she scanned the terminal with her eyes. "Where are you?"

"Look 90 degrees northeast, approximately 100 meters from your position."

"90 degrees northeast?"

"I am standing next to a structural support."

Uhura turned her head slightly to her right and looked across to another waiting area. When she saw the tall Vulcan standing next to a post, she wondered how she missed seeing him. He looked quite stylish dressed in a black turtleneck, leather jacket and slacks. "Oh, yeah. I see you now."

"What were you reading?"

"Reading?"

"I noticed you laughing and wondered what you were reading on your iTablet."

"Oh, Spock, I wasn't reading. I was watching a situation comedy I had downloaded."

"A situation comedy?" His voice tinged with contempt. "Nyota, you surprise me. I had no idea you spent your time on such trivial pursuits."

"Well, then, it won't be the last time I surprise you. You should know there are times when I do choose to spend my time on matters of little consequence. Then, there are also times when I'm just down right silly. I can't live my life as a drama all the time."

"Life is a serious endeavor."

"True, but its hardly worth living if it does not include joy and laughter."

"Is that so?"

"I just know whenever I take myself too seriously, God seems to find a way to trip me up as a way to let me know I need to lighten up a bit."

"Your deity maliciously seeks opportunities to cause you to stumble? He does not sound to be the compassionate God you have claimed him to be."

"You just did it." Uhura countered.

"I just did what? Please explain."

"I heard you laughing."

"Nyota, you are mistaken. I made no such noise that could be identified as laughter."

"Your laughter came from within you, Spock. You see, I've come to realize you find pleasure in playing word games with people. Poking fun at language and the way it often fails to adequately convey meaning is your favorite sport from which you draw great enjoyment. You may not make an audible sound when you do it, but I can still hear you laughing."

The Vulcan does not respond.

"Spock, is this not true?"

Still no response.

"Spock, why the silence?"

"There was no silence, Nyota. I was just waiting for all of the laughter to die down before I offered my retort."

Nyota rolled her eyes, although knowing the gesture was probably wasted due to her distance from Spock. "It was a yes or no question. Did I not accurately describe your source of amusement?"

"If you derive enjoyment from your elementary attempts to analyze my alleged comedic thought process and behavior, I would not endeavor to spoil your dubious fun by confirming or disproving your theory so soon in our relationship."

"You're evading."

"On the contrary, I am allowing you to fill more of your hours engaged in meaningless pastimes that you contend are a necessary aspect of human existence. By your standard, are you not feeling more fulfilled by each minute we expend as we continue speaking of something that has absolutely no significance?"

Uhura does not respond.

"Do I not speak the truth?"

Still no response.

"Nyota, is your communicator suddenly inoperative?"

"Oh, no, _baby_, my communicator is working fine. I was just waiting for the laughter to die down."

_Spock paused to take in the moment . . . _

_Uhura paused to take in the moment . . ._

_He loved the sound of her voice . . . _

_She loved the challenge of his words . . ._

_Her tongue . . ._

_His wit . . ._

_His Nyota . . ._

_Her baby . . ._

Their thoughts were suddenly disturbed by an announcement that the flight to New York City would soon be ready for boarding.

Uhura felt pressed for time as there was so much she wanted to ask him before boarding. "Did you have a chance to see Jack?"

"Actually, he came to my apartment before I had a chance to do so."

"Were you able to let him back into your life, Spock?"

He paused to reflect before he answered. "It would be more accurate to say the boy showed me how to reopen the space I had closed to him. His argument was quite . . . persuasive."

The Vulcan could see her wide grin from across the terminal. "I'm sure Captain Pike was especially pleased. It would have been such a shame for your relationship to be affected by that incident. From what you have told me, you have relied much on his counsel and friendship in the past."

"It is true the Captain has been more than a mentor and more than a friend to me for much of the time I have been with Starfleet. However, there are some matters for which I will no longer seek his ear."

"Spock – " When the announcer's voice interrupted Uhura with a call for first-class passengers, she decided to save further discussion about Pike until her return. She had other matters on her mind. "So, Spock, are you looking forward to your meeting with T'Lau?"

"She is scheduled to arrive on December 27 at 10 AM on a flight that originated in Frankfurt. I will meet with her as planned after her 2:00 PM appointment with Admiral Pok."

"So . . . who else will join you for your meeting with her? Other members of the Oversight Committee?"

"No other members of the Oversight Committee will be in attendance. Only T'Lau and I will be present. Our consultation will concern sensitive matters not appropriate for others to be privy to."

Uhura fought to suppress it, but she could not stop herself from pursuing a nagging question she had wanted to ask since she first encountered T'Lau. "Spock . . . I kind of feel funny about asking you this. I mean, it's like whenever someone at the Academy meets another Cadet from Africa, they act as though I should also know that person. But . . . when I've talked to Ms. T'Lau . . . the way she behaves toward you . . . it's like she's got a sense of . . . entitlement."

"You need not weave such a convoluted path to your question. What exactly do you want to know, Nyota?"

"Before Ms. T'Lau became involved with the Enterprise construction project, were you acquainted with her . . . back on Vulcan, that is?"

"Yes."

That was not the answer she wanted to hear. Still, she felt compelled to move on to the next question. "Did you know her . . . well?"

"Is there more substance to your inquiry?"

"I want to know were the two of you involved?"

"Our families have maintained a close association for generations."

"I'm not asking about anybody else, but you and Ms. T'Lau. If you think it's too personal, I'll understand."

"What do you want me to tell you, Nyota?"

Although not sure if she was ready to hear his response, she could not stop the question from leaving her lips. "Have you had sexual relations with her?"

"Yes." He did not hesitate to answer her.

Uhura wanted to disbelieve what she heard, but she knew that it would be foolish to do so. She then decided to ask a question she hoped would somehow make the situation more palatable. "You were sexually involved with her before your Academy days?"

"Yes." Then he added, "We also engaged in sexual activities after I became an officer."

Confused and hurt, Uhura grabbed her flight bag and headed toward the gate upon hearing her flight was ready for general boarding.

"Nyota!" Spock commanded. "You will not leave me this way."

Uhura grew hot and angry with herself for stopping upon hearing his voice. She cursed herself, as she felt the wetness of her tears on her face. With her back to him, she moved herself away from the stream of people lining up to enter the gate.

"Now, wait just a minute." She could not soften her ire. "Why are you suddenly sounding as if _you_ are the offended party?"

"Earlier you criticized me for being evasive about something which did not matter. Now when I answer your questions directly about something that does make a difference to our relationship, I draw your hostility. Make up your mind, Nyota. Am I to be a man of deceit who keeps you in blissful ignorance? Or, am I to be a man of grounded in fidelity?"

Spock waited for her reply and was not disappointed as she finally whispered, "I want you to be honest with me."

"My admissions of my former relationships may cause you difficulty, but I swear my words were born out of a need to be utterly faithful to you."

Again, Spock gave her room to find her voice. "Maybe . . . " Uhura finally managed to say. "Spock, maybe . . . I'm just not mature enough to handle this . . . I'm 25, but right now . . . I'm feeling like a kid."

"I have waited this long. I can give our relationship a little more time to give you a chance to grow up."

The sound of her sudden laughter filled his ears and found its way to his heart. Still laughing as she turned to him, she covered her mouth so not to draw attention to herself. She then discreetly wiped away her few remaining tears with her hand.

He continued. "Nyota, do you hear it now?"

"Hear what?"

"My laughter intertwined with yours."

"_Our_ laughter?"

"Sort of a hybrid, is this not so? Our laughter . . . an oddity . . . a curiosity to some . . . a freak of nature to others. It definitely has never before been heard."

Uhura paused and stood quietly for a moment. "Yes, now I believe I do hear it. And, I can tell why it appears so bizarre. It's a mixture of my melodious tone and your halting, cackle."

"You dare to describe my sound as a cackle? Something that is harsh and shrill?"

"I said it was a _halting_, cackle."

"Do you add that adjective to mean my laugh is also somewhat imperfect? Defective in some way? Really, Nyota, your ears seem to be playing terrible tricks on you."

"My auditory perception needs no correction." She commented playfully.

Moments passed, when there were no words from either one of them. Then, he quietly spoke one word.

"Touch."

"What?" She asked.

"It pains me not to be able to touch you."

"Spock, you know we can't take that chance."

"Then, I will have to make do with the memories."

"Memories?"

". . . of the warmth of your breath on my cheek . . . "

"You remember . . ."

" . . . the gentle caress of your fingertips under my chin . . . "

". . . wanted to touch you . . . "

" . . . and the sweet tenderness you lay upon my lips . . ."

" . . . love the taste of your lips . . ."

Uhura heard what sounded like a sigh as the Vulcan added, "Ah, yes . . . until you return, I will live upon that delightful reflection."

The East African could feel a warm flush spread over her body. Without thinking, her eyes closed to embrace the sensation as a sigh escaped her lips.

"Nyota." She heard the Vulcan's voice and wondered what deliciously romantic words was he now going to speak.

"Yes, _baby_." She cooed not expecting his cool rejoinder.

"Remember, you are in a public place."

Uhura eyes sprang open in embarrassment. Gratefully, she heard an announcement for the final boarding call for her flight. She quickly removed her earpiece and snatched up her flight bag.

And, as she hurried to her gate, Uhura was sure she could hear him _laughing_.

Shaniqua watched as her East African friend stuffed a handful of maple-covered popcorn into her mouth. The actress commented, "You've got it bad, girl."

Uhura tried to speak.

"Chew, Nyota."

Uhura obeyed her friend's command and struggled to swallow.

"This situation is trully twisted. You've got to watch your step with that Vulcan."

"I know what you mean. Just when I think I'm able to match wits with him, he gets to me when I least expect it."

"It's deeper than that."

"What do you mean?"

"He's a Vulcan, so he turns off his emotions."

"Shaniqua, Vulcans don't turn off their emotions, they suppress them."

"Same-difference. Their feelings are muted by choice. Yet, your Vulcan seems to get off by taking you through all of the emotions in the book."

Suddenly realizing, Uhura voiced her thoughts. "It's as though he's projecting his own feelings through me . . . as though I am his conduit for expression. I don't know why I never before understood that."

"It's too close to you . . . you're too caught up in that Vulcan's heat."

"Vulcan heat?" Uhura tried to play it off. "First you claimed he muffled his emotions, but now you're saying he's throwing off flames of passion. How can both be happening simultaneously?"

"I can't speak for Spock and what he was actually experiencing. But, from your own account he certainly had a direct hand in raising temperature bar. Given more time and a more private place, who knows what would have happened."

"Come on, Shaniqua, don't you think you're overstating the situation? So what if I was turned on a bit . . . "

Her friend looked at her warily.

"Or, even a lot." Uhura added. "We're not wild animals. We can still control our carnal desires no matter how strong they may appear at times."

"Well, if you're not yet ready for your relationship to go in that direction, you're going to have to find a way to put a little distance between you and Spock."

"Put a little distance between us? What are you talking about?"

"Right now, he's the one in control of the tempo, pitch and intensity of this relationship. You can't win any of your matches because he's got circumstances stacked in his favor. You know I'm right about this, don't you Nyota?"

Uhura trusted all of the _precious ones _and valued their advice. Yet, she did not come all the way to New York for Shaniqua to question her relationship with Spock. "What are you trying to say? That he's just using me? That you don't think he's good for me?"

"Settle down, Nyota. You're jumping to a lot of erroneous conclusions about where I'm going with all of this." Although still a little wary, Uhura was willing to hear what her friend had to say.

Shaniqua continued. "I'm not saying Spock isn't right for you. I only know what you've told me about him and let's face it . . . he's a very complex man."

Uhura could not argue with that statement. She had never known anyone like him. Just when she thought she had peeled away a part of his clandestine shell, a new complication would arise.

"Allow yourself the space to take a step back to take a look at your relationship from a perspective unobscured by his shadow. Then you'll know better if you really want to take this unchartered course."

Uhura cast her eyes down. It _was_ sage counsel, the kind she felt she needed. "All right, I'll let him know that we'll need to cool it for awhile."

"Cool it? Those weren't my words. If you adopt that approach you'll be giving that T'Lau bitch an opportunity to get back into his pants while he's feeling neglected."

"But you said I needed to put some distance between Spock and me to give me a chance to assess the situation."

"I swear Nyota we're about the same age, but there are some matters in which you are quite naïve."

"Inexperienced."

"Same-difference."

Nyota resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"Yes, put a little distance between the two of you, but you keep the sexual tension taut." Shaniqua advised. "That way, he won't dare to stray, while you give more thought as to whether the pairing is actually best for you."

Ironically, Uhura thought, even Spock would have to agree her friend's recommendations were quite logical. The East African would give her consent to the plan and then spend the next couple of hours talking about strategy until both were too exhausted to speak any longer.

Shaniqua retired to her bedroom. Uhura stripped off her clothes and donned an oversized t-shirt she used as a nightgown. After she readied the sofa bed, Uhura turned out the lights and climbed under the covers. Lying there, she waited patiently for the sleep she was sure would soon come.

But it was not fatigue or her need for rest that met her.

_For that night, she was overtaken by thoughts of love . . . _

_His love . . ._

_The Vulcan's love . . . _

_In the security of Spock's love, Nyota was lulled gently to sleep._

**Author's Note: **I plan to end this storyline - entitled "Needs" - with this chapter and pick up the plot under another title called, "Operation No Return." Within that next episode, T'Lau will emerge as a major character. Hopefully, I will post the first chapter within 7-10 days of this post.

Your comments are always welcome.


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